The Unknown Follower

Walking and walking, I went on, following the game trail left by the monster buck. I am Jimmy Carter. I am 15 years old and live with my grandpa and 8 year old brother on his little farm in the middle of no where. It wasn't just living, it was survival. I have been tracking this monster elk for the better part of 3 days because I know he alone could could feed us through the majority of the upcoming winter. Every time I have gotten a shot with my 70 pound draw weight recurve bow he runs catching the scent of me or the follower. I know there is something else following, but i don’t know whether it is following me or the elk. Sometimes I see its tracks crossing in front of the game trail and it looks like the track I have seen multiple times while running upon carcasses in my teenage years hunting. All I know is to stay to the fire at night and when I sleep to have my hand on my hunting knife.

Silently I jog up a mountain hoping to catch a glimpse of him going up the next ridge to show me I am catching up. Every time so far I have not seen a sign, but from his tracks I know I am only a few hours behind him. By now I have walked and jogged at least 30 miles away from home. And know I will have to turn around soon before I get caught in the upcoming winter and am unable to make it home. I told my grandfather I would be back in ten to twelve days, and if I don’t show up to know something bad will have happened. When, I get to the top breathing heavily, I look across the valley and see the bull storming up the ridge, disturbed by something. Something was chasing it, going in for the kill. Then I see it the predator. It is white as snow, about as big as a mid-sized bear but not nearly as fat. It is bulky but from the speed it and the way it runs, light-footed and stretching out all the way to gain more ground in each stride, I know that it is a trained killer. I figure if it kills it I would just shoot it while its feasting and get my share of the meat. I start my descent, trying not to make noise at all and I hear the bull elk scream. And I know the predator has finished it. I unclip my bow from the side of my pack and loosen my knife. When I get to the bottom I start going even slower so I make no sound at, hoping to get a shot at the mysterious animal. Not letting even the slightest sound be made I climb up the ridge. I Get to the top and look down and see nothing. I resolve to climbing a tree to get a better view. Thats when I hear it. When i am midway up I hear a low pitched growl. Startled, I look around, and there it is. The true predator of these woods. We make eye contact. All I see in those yellow eyes is knowledge, intelligence from year after year of surviving. After 30 seconds of this it bolts of to the opposite direction of the elk. After sitting silently, listening I climb down not sure if the animal is friend of foe, and go towards the body of the elk. When there I cut off every scrap of meat possible, and the hide, knowing if I take the bones the pack will be to heavy. The head with the massive antlers would be a great trophy, but the pack already weighs near 70 pounds, that is nearly too much for me to handle.

As I set off, with the burden of my pack I realize it is almost dark and must find a place for a shelter. I stop when I have walked a mile and find a meadow with many dead trees around for fire and shelter. The shelter I build is a tee-pee covered with the elk hide, and the fire is about a yard in diameter, and 2 feet from the ground. By around 11 o’clock I go to bed near the fire, my bow next to me and my knife in my hand. Every 1 to 2 hours I get up and stoke the fire. The night passes without incident besides a deep howl I heard on the outskirts of the meadow. After that I sat by the fire for an hour, till I could get the nerves to close my eyes again. The next morning couldn’t have come sooner. The whole night I felt like I was being watched, always feeling the presence of the creature. I get up, take down my shelter, shoulder my pack and walk towards the direction of my grandfathers farm. After walking about 6 miles, it is midday and I stop for a lunch break on a large rock. While eating I get up to go climb a tree to get bearing, and see It. On the ridge to the left of where I am going, going on a course that would intersect mine in a few miles. I run back to get my things and set off at a fast pace to hopefully get to a defendable position for the night, and get ahead of it, to get home before it gets me. I go along, jogging most of the time, always looking behind me at times, half expecting to see the white shape. The day wears on without and encounter, but the night is when things go wrong. It starts right when the sun is out of sight and I hear howls off in front of me while sitting at the fire. Then every once in a while I see a faint white blurr running through the edge of the firelight. Then and there I realize that this is going to be restless night. I grip an ember in my hand to wake me up if I doze off knowing that could mean the end for me with the predator out there.

The next morning I set off jogging, hopping only to have to stay out here one more night. By midday I have covered 10 miles at this fast pace. And by sunset, I have covered 20. That means only 5 or 6 miles till I am home. But I know that the animal following me will only get more desperate, and more aggressive. That night went worse than the the night before. At midnight I look out the see a white figure striding towards me. As it creeps forward, my hand slowly goes towards my bow. It gaves me a secure feeling with the worn wood. As it gets 15 yards away it speeds up, but just as it does that I stand up and shoot at it. I nail it right in the back leg. It yelps and limps off as fast as it can. My the next morning I am mentally and physically drained. Having no sleep every night is making me doze off while walking sometimes. In mid-morning I am just barely setting off, and by noon, only having gone 3 miles I sit against a tree for a few minutes. I see and hear nothing, the breeze is perfect, cooling down my sweaty body. Then I am out.

I wake up. It is about sunset, I look around and collect bearing and set off frantic. I am running as fast as possible, hoping beyond hope that I would make it before nightfall. When I finally see the cabin it is nightfall and I still need to descend a hill. But then I hear that growl that I have become all too familiar with. I start running pumping my legs as fast as possible, but not fast enough. I hear the sound of light paws getting closer and closer. I start yelling, hoping to get my grandpa’s attention so he could help me. Then I feel a smack and fly forward, somersaulting and rolling on the ground till finally I hit a tree and stopped. I got up and ran knowing that the fall gave me a lead, but not that much of one. I run till I am 100 yards from that cabin and feel a bite on my right arm, grunt, and fall down with the cat on top of me. That scream saved me. I see my grandpa running from the the cabin, bow in hand and released an arrow. I can still see it quivering through to air. With a resounding smack it hit the cat and it toppled over, dead where it lay. My grandpa picked up my shoulder so I could lean on him, and we worked our way to the cabin.