Stan and I met shortly after I moved to Seattle in the spring of 2017. We used to joke that we should make up some sort of meet-cute to explain the origins of our relationship because the truth was far less romantic and far more mundane. That is, we met on Tinder, as everyone seems to these days. To say we hit it off would be an understatement. He seemed like the perfect man for me. He loved dogs, just like I did. And music, and art. Of course, there were some things we didn’t agree on. He liked horror movies way more than me, for instance. And snakes. He tried to convince multiple times that we should get a snake - that was one I knew from the beginning I was never budging on. They just give me the creeps, you know?

Things like that felt like they just added depth to our relationship, though. We moved quickly - not overwhelmingly fast, but a bit quicker than I normally moved in relationships. It just really felt like he got me. I found myself spilling far more details about my ex than I had intended on ever sharing on our third date. I was half expecting him to run for the hills then. My ex wasn’t a very kind guy, if you get my drift. And crying on a third date is never sexy. He just reached out, took my hand, and told me we all go through dark stuff. I felt heard.

“And who hasn’t had a fucked up ex?” He asked, offering me a wry smile.

A few months later, we were moving in together. Things were perfect. At first, anyways. Even then, it was just small things, really. It wasn’t long before Stan sat me down to talk to me about how I kept forgetting to do my dishes, for example. I couldn’t help but feel a little defensive - that particular week, I’d worked double shifts two days in a row. I’d barely even had time to sleep, much less address the dishes. Still, I conceded. He wasn’t wrong, after all.

After that, I realized that my clothes were a bit too revealing, following Stan pointing it out. I still felt a little defensive, but he assured me he was just trying to look out for me. Since this was my first time out on my own. He had several years of experience on me on that matter, so I pushed down my pride and agreed. He was just trying to help, you know? Just like he was when he pointed out that my friends weren’t that great of an influence, and that going out on the weekends wasn’t really fair to him.

Besides things like that, our relationship was great, really. We had countless happy photos together - he was never shy about posting me. The long, romantic captions he’d post alone quelled any doubts I had about how much he cared about me. Silly, I know, but it felt nice that someone was proud to show me off.

For our one-year anniversary, Stan suggested we go on a trip. He said I could pick, so I suggested a national park I’d always wanted to see. Joshua Tree, to be specific. We both enjoyed camping, and the outdoors, so it seemed like a safe choice. When I suggested it, though, I saw his gaze darken.

“That was Emma’s favorite park,” he said. Emma was his ex. The fucked up one he’d alluded to on our third date. He didn’t talk about her much - I always got the impression that he didn’t want to think about that part of his life much. So, I didn’t ask. As such, I didn’t know much beyond how she was some sort of biologist, and apparently 50 shades of insane. They’d dated for a few years right after she’d graduated college, and then she’d went entirely off the rails.

“Nevermind,” I amended quickly. “What about Glacier National Park then? It’s supposed to be really pretty too, and it’s closer.”

His face relaxed, and he smiled. “That’s much better,” he agreed. “Glacier it is.”

I was really excited about our trip. I was taking a whole week off work, I poured god knows how many hours into planning. I wanted it to be perfect - to really show Stan how grateful I was that he’d managed to put up with me for a year. The trip grew steadily closer, and before I knew it, we were climbing into his car, the trunk full of camping gear and his dog, Penelope, panting happily. We lived about ten hours away from Glacier. Not horribly far, but definitely far enough to warrant the planning I’d put in. The road trip there was nice, for the most part, aside from how I forgot to remind Stan to fill up the gas tank.

That was a close call.

We left early in the morning - early enough that I thought it counted more as late at night, to be honest. By the time we were arriving at Glacier, the shadows were growing long, surrounded by gold. We’d have just enough time to set up our camp, I thought. We went to check in at the ranger station.

Stan did the talking, while I pet Penelope behind him. I listened in on the conversation. It was mostly park guidelines, typical stuff like that. Stan, of course, was also chatting with the ranger like they were old friends. He was always charismatic like that.

“We figured we’d head out here to celebrate, isn’t that right, dear?” Stan asked, turning to me. I nodded quickly.

“Yep! Can’t believe it’s been a year already,” I said. The ranger, a youngish man with dark blond hair tied back in a ponytail, looked past Stan to meet my gaze.

“That’s wonderful! Congratulations,” he said.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any recommendations for things to do, would you?” Stan asked, shifting his weight so he stood in front of me. I almost opened my mouth to say I already had things we could do planned out - I had for nearly two months. I decided against it. Stan had told me recently that I tended to come across as bossy and condescending, and I was trying to work on that. Instead, I turned my attention back to Penelope as the ranger went over some trails and interpretive programs.

Eventually, Stan shook his hand, and we headed to our campsite. “I was reading about some trails we could try,” I offered as we set up.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Stan said. “I’m sure he just gave us more in depth info than whatever research you read.”

“Right,” I mumbled. The first night there was peaceful. We built a campfire. At one point, Stan dropped Penelope’s leash. She ran over to the nearest campsite. Luckily, the couple there thought she was just as adorable as we did. Stan invited them over to join us around the campfire. I was a little disappointed - I had pictured getting up early to head out on the hikes he’d suggested I plan a few months ago, and it had already been a long day of travel. Still, plans change. The couple was incredibly friendly, on the bright side. The girl was named Marie, and the guy Michael. They had been traveling in their van for the past six months. “You know, I always thought van life sounded like it would be amazing. Of course, we have her holding us down,” Stan said, laughing towards me.

“It was hard enough to get away from work this week,” I agreed, playing along.

“Well, a week out here is better than nothing,” Marie offered.

The next day, we headed out on one of the hikes Stan had chosen, getting up a bit later as I had guessed would happen. It was pretty, I’ll admit, and I was beginning to feel silly for being so controlling over what we did. When we returned to camp that night, we had dinner at the nearby restaurant, and things felt like they were going nicely. This was the longest we’d gone in weeks without some sort of argument or me messing something up. After dinner, we stopped by the visitor center to buy some more firewood. When we returned, Marie and Michael came over again. Not to chat, though. This time, they had a question for us. Or more, for Stan. Michael tried to keep his voice down as he asked Stan if he’d heard anything strange last night, as Marie had been spooked by something. I surmised they were trying to not scare me as well, though I thought that was rather silly. We were in the woods, after all. It seemed like weird noises were to be expected.

Stan and I climbed into our tent that night, and sleep took us both quickly. It didn’t keep its grasp, though, at least not on me. I was awoken at some point in the night by something outside our tent. My first thought was that it was another camper, on the way to the bathroom and wandering off the path in the darkness. As I continued to listen, though, slow, steady noise suggested otherwise. It almost sounded like whoever - or whatever - was out there was circling the tent. I say whatever because it didn’t fully sound like footsteps. Instead, it almost sounded like something sliding. Scraping along the forest floor. I felt a chill run down my spine. I looked over to Stan. He was still fast asleep. I swallowed. The last thing I wanted to do was wake him up, especially if it turned out to be something as silly as a deer. Trying to steady my racing breath, I decided to instead turn my attention back to the noise outside. I attempted to reason with myself as I strained to listen.

We were in a well-populated, official campground - surely whatever was out there couldn't be that dangerous. Animals came into the campgrounds, I knew that, but it seemed like the odds of being attacked by some wild animal less than fifty feet from a ranger station had to be close to zero. Whatever was out there continued to circle the tent - I was sure that was what it was doing, now. I heard Penelope begin to whine - she’d evidently been awoken as well. I looked over at her, trying to make out her small shape in the darkness. I wanted to call her over to me, away from the entrance of the tent. I knew that if whatever was out there was dangerous, a few extra feet between her and it wouldn’t do much good. I didn’t dare call out anyways, too scared of alerting whatever was out there to our presence.

As I continued to listen, I heard the strange sliding noise stop. It sounded like it was right behind the tent. Right above Stan and I. I almost screamed as a low hiss reached my ears. That was enough for Penelope, evidently, as she collapsed into a fit of panicked barks. It seemed like a spell had been broken with her first bark. Stan shot up, and immediately demanded to know what was going on, as Penelope tried to claw her way out of the tent. There was a loud crash outside, then silence.

“What the fuck is going on?” Stan demanded, anger overriding any remaining sleepiness. I tried to recount what had just happened to him. The scraping noise, the circling, the hiss. I was barely halfway through explaining when he rolled his eyes.

“It was probably just a deer,” he said.

“A deer? It hissed!” I said, forgetting myself in fear of whatever had been out there.

“Deer make weird noises! God, I get the dog freaking out, but you?” Stan asked.

“I’m not freaking out,” I said. “There was something out there. Michael said Marie heard something too-“

“Marie probably also heard a deer. Jesus Christ, I didn’t know I was going on a camping trip with a twelve year old.” Stan said. I felt tears pricking my eyes. Things had just been going so well. Finally.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I just got freaked out, you’re right. It was silly.”

We woke up later than planned the next day. Unsurprising, after last night’s events, I thought. My previous panic slowly came back to me. In the daylight, I could see Stan’s side more easily - it was rather silly of me to be panicking over what was probably just a curious deer. It had sounded like it was sliding, or slithering, or whatever, sure, but how much did I really know about wildlife?

I pushed the thoughts out of my mind, deciding instead to focus on the day ahead of us. Stan and I headed out for the second hike he had chosen. A longer one - nearly 12 miles, round trip. I glanced at the time when he said that, trying to keep the frown off my face. It seemed like it was a little late to start such a long hike. Stan was quick to assure me it would be fine, though.. We stopped at the ranger station near the campground to use to the bathrooms and fill up our water bottles before we set off.

The ranger we’d met a few days before was there again, and once again greeted us with a friendly smile. Penelope had apparently picked this particular night to be shy, so I ended up holding her leash off to the side while Stan chatted with the ranger and bought firewood.

“What type of dog is that, by the way?” The ranger asked as Stan turned to leave. I saw his face light up instantly. Penelope was a rare breed, one he’d spent several thousand dollars and a trip to another country on to acquire. He loved getting to tell people that.

“A Kromforlander,” Stan replied. “They’re a sort of rare German breed, there’s not many in America.”

“She’s very cute,” the ranger said. I could tell Stan wanted to continue to conversation, but another man had walked up, grabbing the ranger’s attention.

We had to head out of the park to a nearby town to drop Penelope off at a kennel Stan had booked for the day, since dogs weren’t allowed on most trails. Stan ranted about the stupidity of that rule as we drove back to the trail.

The hike was gorgeous. Stan had mentioned that it trailed along a lake for a bit before veering upwards to the ridge, but it seemed “a bit” was far longer than I’d thought. Not that I had any complaints - said lake was a stunning, sapphire blue. It was hard to really focus on the beautiful scenery with the position of the sun nagging at me, however. It seemed to be moving far faster than usual. It was probably my imagination. I felt a distinct chill of anxiety creep down my spine at the thought of being out here at night. Around one, about two hours into our trek, we sat down to have lunch. We had only been stopped for a few minutes when a man emerged from the brush. Not trail - he literally pushed his way through the thick bushes up ahead. I jumped at the sudden intrusion, a gasp escaping my lips.

The man stared at us for a moment. His face was unreadable. Then, he straightened up.

“Afternoon,” he said. There was something off about his voice. It was raspy, as though he didn’t use it much, or chain-smoked on the daily. Or both.

“Afternoon,” Stan returned, narrowing his eyes.

“You two headed past the lake?” The man asked. That was the only place this trail went, so that seemed obvious. Of course, he had just come from off trail, so maybe it wasn’t to him.

“We are,” Stan said, dismissively. I could tell he didn’t want to keep interacting with this man any more than I did. “Pretty day out for a hike,” the man said. “I’d keep an eye on the sun, though.” He stared at us. We stared back, unsure what else to say. I looked over at Stan. He was still looking at the newcomer.

“Well. I’ll let you two get on with your lunch,” the man said. Then he walked past us, heading back down the mountain without another word. Once he was out of sight, I broke the silence.

“What the hell was that?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

Stan shrugged. “I dunno. Crazy mountain man? Lost crackhead? He’s gone now anyways.”

I frowned, my gaze trailing back to where the man had disappeared around the bend of the trail.

“Seriously, that didn’t creep you out?” I asked.

“I mean, he was weird, but you’re bound to run into weird people sometimes,” Stan said with another shrug. My mind wasn’t fully put at ease, but I nodded. He was right, I told myself, looking back at my sandwich. Once we finished lunch, we continued hiking. I couldn’t help but notice how few people were on the trail that day. That, combined with the strange man from earlier, and of course, the ever-present knowledge we were in grizzly country, kept my anxiety constantly at the edge of boiling over.

God, we just had to pick the one hike that no one is on, I thought as we rounded a series of large boulders. By now, the shadows were beginning to grow long. We still hadn’t reached the ridge. We hadn’t even cleared the lake. I felt like we must have been well past the 6 miles it took to reach the ridge at this point. I debated whether or not to say something. I decided against it. Stan would just tell me he knew what he was doing - that he was the hiking expert, with several years of experience on me, and all of that. So we continued one. When the sun was beginning to dip behind the mountains, though, and we were still nowhere near any sort of ridge, I finally stopped.

“Maybe we should start heading back,” I suggested, gesturing toward the sun. Stan turned to face me. His face was red and shiny with sweat, both emphasized by the orange glow of the sun.

“It should be right up here,” Stan said.

“Well, do you have the map? I could take a look at it,” I offered. Stan rolled his eyes.

“I know how to read a map, Michelle,” he said. He set his bag down, presumably to pull the map out. After a few moments of rustling around, he looked up at me.

“Did you take the map?” He asked, an icy edge to his voice.

“No! I haven’t touched it,” I said quickly. “It’s not there?”

“Why the fuck would I be asking you if you took it if it was here? God, Michelle, you can really be dumb sometimes.” Stan gave the backpack a kick in frustration.

“Sorry,” I said, swallowing. I took a steadying breath. “Maybe it fell out?”

“It was right here,” Stan said, shaking his head. “I know I packed it.”

“I know, I saw you pack it. Did you take it out during lunch? Um, maybe we can check google maps,” I suggested. I pulled my phone out, only to be greeted with no reception and a dying battery. So much for that idea. I took another breath, trying to stay calm. We weren’t lost, at least, I reasoned. We were still on the trail, even if it wasn’t the trail that led to the ridge. We could still backtrack. I told Stan as much. The dying sunset was growing even more golden, adding urgency to my words. If we hurried, we might be able to get at least partway off the mountain before dark. Maybe to a more populated area of whatever trail this was.

“Alright,” Stan agreed. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Our descent was tense, to say the least. I could practically feel the anger coming off of Stan, and I didn’t dare say anything for fear of making it worse. Despite our best efforts, we weren’t even back at our lunch spot when dusk began to turn to dark, and it became nearly impossible to see. I pulled my phone out. Its flashlight barely cut a few feet ahead through the inky blackness, but it was better than nothing. Stan did the same. I frowned, wishing I’d checked with him that he’d brought a flashlight. I’d assumed that was a given, with all of his hiking experience. Oh well - I could hardly judge someone for forgetting something.

Our progress was massively hindered by the dim lighting. That, along with the rocky trail made every step feel like a potential fall. Potential turned into actual when I misjudged a loose rock. It gave way beneath my boot. I yelped as I fell to the ground, the cold stones cutting into my flesh. My phone hit the ground, the light disappearing. I saw the remaining light spin around.

“Jesus Christ, I told you to watch your step,” Stan said. I winced.

“Sorry,” I said.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Stan replied. “Are you alright?” He crouched down in front of me, the light shining in my face. I gave a soft nod.

“I think so,” I said. I raised my hands to examine the damage. A couple of scrapes, but nothing worse. That was a relief. It definitely hurt worse than that. I looked back to the ground, scanning for my phone. Thankfully, it had only fallen face down - it seemed to still be working fine otherwise. Stan helped me to my feet, and we continued on. We hadn’t taken more than three steps each when we heard it. A sharp crack in the woods to our right. Both of our heads snapped toward the source of the sound at the same time. I felt my blood run cold.

Please don’t be a bear, please don’t be a bear, I prayed silently.

“It’s probably just a deer,” Stan said. I heard a rare hint of doubt in his usually confident voice.

If I get out of this alive, I am never going hiking again, I thought. There was another crack, this time from further up the trail.

“We should keep moving,” I said, swallowing. I tried to remember what you were supposed to do if you encountered a predator. Not be wandering around the woods after dark was probably high up on that list, my mind offered.

Look big. Don’t run. Make noise.

I forced myself to keep my pace steady as I started to walk again, thinking about the other two. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to do either of those. I was 5’3” on a good day. Stan cut a pretty imposing figure, at least. Did make noise mean like sing? Yell? Bang rocks together? I didn’t have time to keep fretting over the vaguely recalled instructions, because something crashed through the bushes in front of us. It was - well, I wasn’t sure what it was. It was definitely big, big enough to take up the entire trail. It didn’t look like a bear, but in the dim lighting, I couldn’t seen much more detail. From what I could make out, it almost looked like a fallen log - except it was definitely moving.

“Run, RUN,” Stan shouted.

Part Two