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"You know where that video was taken, doncha, Red?"
There he goes with that "Red" shit again. This time it hits different.
Oz thinks my hair is sexy? My steps might slow down a little-- but just a little-- to give him a chance to catch up with me.
"Doesn't matter where it was shot, the university has already declared the creature was deep faked with AI."
And whoever did it did a damn good job, too.
"Looked pretty real to me," Ozzie mumbles more to himself than to me. "That was new video too, not the one I saw a few days back."
Yeah, I know where the new video was taken: Clawson Crossing, where the stream runs through the alpine meadow only a couple of miles further into the wilderness from where we are now. And I didn't need Oz to point out that that was new video, I could see the date stamp on it just fine while I was watching it.
"You think they're real?" I ask.
You can't grow up in the mountains without seeing a few weird things, and there's no avoiding the local legends that date back way before gold was discovered up here.
I've never had anything happen that convinced me that the stories were more than stories, but I know a lot of people who have some interesting tales to tell; including my own brothers.
The mountains around us have gone suspiciously quiet. My shoulders shiver lightly under my jacket, and I give the surrounding forest a hard stare.
"You nervous?" Oz chides. "How are you going to be the big, bad, back-country ranger stationed out here on your own if you're scared of a little Bigfoot?"
"Dammit Oz! I was just starting to like you again and you just have to be an ass and remind me why I hate you."
"You were starting to like me?"
A branch breaks somewhere beyond the tree line off the trail.
"Stay behind me," Ozzie orders.
Moving faster than a man his size should be able to, he jumps in front of me, positioning his massive body between me and whatever is crashing through the woods in our general direction.
"You got your firearm?" His arms are spread wide, like he's going to make sure nothing gets to me.
"I'm not that kind of ranger," I hiss.
"Shit, Red, what if you have a bad bear encounter?"
"I'll use my bear spray."
Our voices have dropped to whispers. Whatever it is, is big and it sounds like it's on the run in our direction.
"Great, gimme your bear spray." The fingers on his right hand twitch in anticipation of being handed something.
"I didn't bring my bear spray."
Osprey
If we make it back to the tower safely, I'll be giving Red a serious talking to about staying safe when she's out in the field.
When--When we make it back to the tower safely. I do my best to kill the negative thought. Meadow will make it back; any other option is unacceptable.
More sounds of something running at full speed through the forest have me reaching back, making sure Red stays safe.
My heart is pumping double time, adrenaline running higher than the river in spring as foliage cracks and crunches beyond my line of sight.
About the only thing I can think of that would make this much noise would be a bear, but I'd be lying if all this Sasquatch talk hasn't got me on edge. I don't know what's about to come crashing out of that forest, but I know I won't let it hurt Red.
