Snow Prints

I park my car at the head of the trail. Even from within my car, the landscape of the dark green pine trees blanketed with snow is breathtaking. The scenery of a winter wonderland high up in the mountains seems to welcome me home. I grab my hiking backpack and jump out of the car. The sight of my exhaling breath creating a little cloud always makes me smile and feel giddy. 

      I head down to the snow-covered trail. The soft crunch of snow beneath my feet making smile from ear to ear. Every inch of the ground is blanketed in snow, with only small peek-a-boos of foliage and fallen trees revealing themselves. I am only able to tell where the trail is by the slightly more compact and indented foot-wide pathway, otherwise, the snow is completely untouched by man. 

      I make my way down the beginning of the trail, feeling elated by such beauty. Who knew that a rich and colorful forest could be even more gorgeous in the winter. The snow making the beauty more pristine and clean in nature. I observe how smooth the snow is after having a fresh layer fallen the night prior. Even upon a closer look, the layers of snowfall become visible, with little crystal dancing within each one. The flowers and foliage that have stayed strong in structure and above the blanket of snow, have delightful little cotton balls of snow upon them as well. I notice as I walk down the steep trail I am catching speed, moving at a jog pace, and then faster to a run, until I am uncontrollably sprinting down the snowy path unable to stop. I go from laughing to feeling unnerved by the sensation of my legs wanting buckle beneath me. I then trip over my own feet and tumble down the path. Rolling and tousling in the snow until I come to skidding halt at the bottom. I laugh hysterically at my own clumsiness. How hilarious that would have been to see from an outsider's perspective. I surely must have looked like a rag doll rolling down the hill on the snow. 

      I chuckle to myself softly as I prop myself up onto my bottom. The snow is alarmingly cold on my hands and in the crevices of my clothes where it found itself after my tumble, but it is soft and airy to the touch. I feel as though the fresh snow is a tangible cloud I am able to caress in my hands. Even the thought of imagining all of the fresh snowfall around me being a forest on top of the clouds makes me giggle aloud. 

      It is then that I pause for a moment. I am now keenly aware of how still and quiet it is. Not even the chirp of a bird can be heard. I close my eyes and breath in deeply, the air sweetly burning my nostrils. I listen. The only sounds that can be found are of the dollops of snow upon the tree branches weighing the branches down, building up tension with their soft, yet compact weight, until the stress gives and the snow falls through the branches below through to the ground with a soft pat, such as rainfall onto a plush blanket. I open my eyes and smile. I could sit here forever, admiring such beauty. 

      I am compelled to stand up to continue along the path, being sure to practice a bit more balance and grace as I walk. The path begins to switch to an inclined then back down to a decline, giving a roller coaster effect to the trail as I walk deeper into the mountains. With the mountainside to me left, there is nothing but an endless forest touched by Jack Frost to my right. I love nothing more than to be alone in nature surrounded by such beauty. It makes me understand why people will build a cabin in the middle of nowhere in some mountain top, because the view itself is priceless, and the solitude is serene. 

      After about two hours of hiking, I begin to feel a little grumble in my stomach. I think it is about time I stop for a few minutes and eat a snack. About ten yards off the path, down the mountainside, I see a cluster of rocks that overlook scenery. I find a fallen tree that serves as a perfect rail for going down the mountain. The snow off the path has proven to be deeper than I thought, bringing me past my knees in snow. Nevertheless, I trudge down until I reach another flat, and only ankle deep, pathway that leads to the rocks. As I approach the rocks I notice prints in the snow going the same direction. I follow several of the tracks and I bend over to take a closer look at them, confused because I have yet to see any other footprints along the path thus far. As I kneel down to observe the footprints, I notice that they are not human tracks at all, but rather of a large animal. 

      Granted, I am not an expert in identifying animal tracks, but these tracks are clearly from an animal far larger than myself.  I place the palm of my hand over the foot print, and have an instant shiver rush down my spine. The pad of the animal, with the four fingers lining the top is nearly as large as my own hand. Even within the snow, I am able to see the deep groove of claw marks made. I retrieved my hand quickly back to my body. My armpits and palms breaking into a sweat. Not only does this not feel right, but it feels all too familiar as well. 

      I want to stand up and run. Run because I am scared, scared of what has clearly been roaming this path not too long ago. But I feel frozen, almost doubled over by the heavy pit weighing in my stomach. All I can do is breath, heavy, weighted breaths, the cloud of condensation escaping my lips and forming into a leading cloud in front of me. Why can’t I move? I need to get up and go back! My mind is screaming at me, but I am paralyzed. Why? Why am I paralyzed? I feel as though my thoughts are racing a thousand miles a minute, yet time has slowed down. Time has frozen. Even the snowflakes seem to hang suspended in the sky. Why did I follow these tracks? I turn my head behind me to see how far it is back to the original trail. I feel defeated to see that the path is up such a steep incline, an incline with snow up almost to my hips, and lined with tree branches and foliage waiting for me to get snagged in. But that isn’t what twists my stomach with horror. There are no footprints leading back up to the path. My footprints are nowhere to be seen up the mountain side. My eyes follow down the fallen tree I had used to steady myself all the way to my current kneeling position… nothing, only the tracks of the menacing animal I had so foolishly followed. I want to scream! I want to cry for help! Yet no sound is able to escape me. It is then that I know. I look up in front of me. The snowflake falls. I soft thud of snow falls to the ground in the distance off of a tree. An expected crunch of snow comes from behind the rocks ahead. I close my eyes just as the sight of a large animal leaps into emergence above me. 

Why did I make the same mistake again?

Red. 

Black.

White. 

   I park my car at the head of the trail. Even from within my car, the landscape of the dark green pine trees blanketed with snow is breathtaking. The scenery of a winter wonderland high up in the mountains seems to welcome me home.