The Dog Days of Insomnia

~The Wilderness of Fear~

It was supposed to be a simple backcountry trip—a weekend adventure into the rugged heart of the wilderness. For Luke, a loyal german shepherd mixed with a malamute; had fur that gleamed like the sun. This was just another adventure with his human, Meghan. They had hiked the hills, crossed streams, and camped in the forests many times before. But this time, things were different.

Meghan had been stressed for weeks leading up to the trip, and Luke could feel the tension in the air. She had been quieter than usual, her footsteps heavier, her voice softer. But when she packed their gear—leashes, treats, the small first aid kit—it all seemed like routine. They were going to the mountains, and he was ready.

Luke loved the mountains. He loved the way the pine trees smelled, how the earth beneath his paws felt alive. The crisp air and the endless expanse of wild beauty were his sanctuary. And Meghan was his anchor. Wherever she went, he followed without hesitation.

But as the sun dipped below the horizon on their second day in the backcountry, something shifted.

They had set up camp by a quiet creek, a peaceful spot Meghan had picked out because it was secluded and serene. The sound of water rushing over smooth stones was the only noise that punctuated the evening, and Luke lay beside Meghan's tent, his head resting on his paws.

Then came the sound—the distant howl. A wolf.

Luke froze. His fur stood on end. He had never heard that sound so close before, not in the way it echoed through the trees, making the shadows stretch longer and the night feel colder. Meghan, too, heard it. She sat up straight, her eyes scanning the dark line of trees, and Luke could sense her unease.

Meghan tried to reassure him. "It’s far away, Luke. Don’t worry."

But the sound came again, closer this time, and a cold wave of fear washed over Luke. His heart raced, his instincts screaming at him to run, to hide, to protect Meghan. He barked once, sharp and desperate, but Meghan hushed him, her voice trembling.

"It’s okay, Luke. We’re safe. Just stay close to me."

But safety felt like an illusion now. The woods were alive with threats. Luke couldn't see the danger, but he could feel it, lurking in the dark corners of the forest. The night grew heavier with every breath, the silence between howls suffocating.

The wind picked up, and Luke’s senses were overwhelmed—his ears rang with every snap of a twig, his nose assaulted by the scent of something foreign, something primal.

Then came the worst sound of all—the crack of a branch breaking underfoot, too close, too unmistakable.

Luke leapt to his feet, hackles raised. Meghan's voice was lost in the rustling of the trees as a figure emerged from the shadows, its glowing eyes piercing the darkness. A bear. A massive, hulking shape, moving slowly, almost casually toward their camp. Meghan had no weapon. Luke had no way to protect her.

The bear sniffed the air, and Luke felt a surge of pure panic—this was real. This was danger. The wild had come for them, and there was nothing they could do.

Meghan grabbed his leash, her hand trembling. "We need to move, Luke," she whispered, but Luke couldn’t bring himself to leave. Every part of him was frozen, his body shaking as the bear took another step toward them.

Suddenly, the sound of a rifle shot rang through the air, echoing through the trees. Luke's entire body flinched. The bear turned and bolted into the wilderness, leaving only the fading echo of the shot.

Luke had never felt fear like this before—not in the park, not during their other trips. The world had shifted from one of comfort and routine into something darker, something uncertain. Meghan was shaking now, her eyes wide with shock, but she didn’t say anything. She just pulled him toward the tent, her hands unsteady.

They didn’t sleep that night. Luke lay at the entrance of the tent, ears perked, every sound in the forest now a potential threat. The silence between the distant howls of wolves and the crackling of branches was unbearable.

The next morning, when the sun rose and the shadows of the night faded, Luke tried to shake off the fear. He followed Meghan along the trail, his head low, his steps slower than usual. Every rustle in the brush made him jump. Every distant howl made his heart race.

Meghan noticed, of course. She always noticed. “Luke, it’s okay," she said, but it wasn’t okay. Not yet.

For the next few days, Luke's joy in the wilderness was gone. The sound of water no longer brought him peace; instead, it was just a reminder of how the world could shift in an instant. The mountains, which once felt like home, now felt like a wild, unpredictable place where danger was always just beyond the horizon.

But Meghan kept walking, kept moving forward, and Luke despite his fears, followed. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he couldn’t leave her. In the stillness of the woods, he would find his courage again. It would take time, but he would learn that the wilderness wasn’t only a place of danger—it was also a place of healing.

By the time they made it back to the trailhead, Luke was still cautious, still haunted by the memory of that night. But when they reached the car, he felt a small sense of relief. They were leaving the wild behind—for now. The trauma of the backcountry trip would linger in his mind, but he knew that wherever Meghan went, he would follow. Luke had always been more than just a dog. Regardless if he or I could not sleep... He was a friend, a confidant, and a protector. For Meghan, he was the constant in her ever-changing life—a reminder that no matter where she went or what she faced, there was always one soul who would love her unconditionally.

The wilderness had taken something from him. But in time, he would take it back.