The Cold Magic

An amateur hunter trespasses in a forbidden forest

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I don't know why I brought the heater. What little good it did to warm up the interior of the hunting blind came to an end in just a few hours. I scolded myself for only bringing one propane canister.

"Embrace the cold" my buddy at work told me. Like hell I will. This would be my first time hunting alone, I'd really overdone it on creature comforts. He would undoubtedly laugh at all the frivolous nonsense I dragged out here, if he knew about it.

The blind itself was lined with mylar like a space blanket. Inside was a folding camping toilet, a cooler full of beer (because it somehow didn't dawn on me until I arrived that I wouldn't need one), the now empty canister of propane, a heat lamp that attaches to the top of it, and a camping stove. Which of course I could do nothing with, as I'd already used all the fuel getting warm.

I also brought a case full of self-heating canned food. Turning the little key, I set it down and watched as steam began to vent from small holes in the lid. A minute later it was piping hot and ready to eat, so far as I know the same way that MREs work. As yet, I’ve done damn near everything except hunting.

The stew was mediocre, but hot as I hoped it would be. It raised my core temp to the point where I could begin to focus on something other than the bitter cold. Lifting the flap, I braced myself for the gust of frigid air that stung my face like a whip.

I blinked. Could that be what it looked like? In the distance, a buck gnawed at a lichen coated boulder. At this point I felt I had satisfied the requirements for telling my buddy I’d roughed it in the wilderness like a real hunter, so if I could bag this buck I figured I could pack up and head home.

While not an experienced hunter, I owned and regularly shot a variety of rifles, having done so for the better part of a decade. Whether I could hit the target was not in doubt. It was quite far away, and the wind complicated the shot somewhat, but it was nothing I hadn't dealt with before. I held my breath, made some final adjustments…and squeezed the trigger.

The buck more than likely never heard the report. There was a burst of red spray from its eye, then it dropped like a sack of bricks. I resigned myself to the realization that I now had to trek all the fucking way out there and drag the body to my car. I came with what I thought would be adequate preparation; a large sled to lash the remains to, a set of knives, and some snow shoes.

I glanced back, trying to gauge the distance, and was about to return my attention to the snow shoes…when out of the corner of my eye, I detected motion. I glanced again, fully expecting it to be a trick of the light…but there it was again. Another hunter? I unfolded a small set of binoculars and fiddled with the focus dial.

The buck was convulsing. My stomach turned. Had I failed to kill it? I didn't see how that was possible. I domed the damn thing. It stopped moving, whereupon I let out a sigh of relief…until it began to spasm again. I set down the 'nocs and raised my rifle, grimly intending to finish the job. But when I looked through the scope, it began to dawn on me that something wasn't right.

The buck was now partially upright, twitching madly. Its movement was herky-jerky, like stop motion animation. Not like a recovering animal, more like something else was moving it from inside. It stood fully erect on its hind legs. The head flopped around, neck still limp until whatever climbed inside to wear it like a suit filled out that part. The head snapped upright.

I had to breathe consciously. My body was stiff as a board and I began to sweat. As I looked on, the head wound started closing up. Like time lapse footage of decomposition, but in reverse. The portion of skull collapsed by my shot rapidly reformed itself before my eyes. Blood trickled from the snow, straight up the animal's leg, then was sucked back into the head through the bullet hole…just before the hole itself vanished, and the bullet popped out.

I doubled over and retched. What else? Never before this point had I ever seen anything remotely out of the ordinary. Too much, all at once, for me to accept. Then in a moment of panic, I leveled my rifle at the creature, held my breath, and fired a second shot. The creature abruptly turned to look me square in the eyes. The wind suddenly stopped and when I looked up from the scope, I noticed snowflakes hanging motionless in mid-air.

There was an unnatural clarity to it all. Like looking at it through an immaculately clean vacuum. When I peered back through the scope, the creature was nowhere to be seen. I hunched over once more struggling to regain my composure. Fuck the blind! Fuck all this useless gear! I slung the rifle over my shoulder, strapped on the snow shoes and headed for the car.

They say not to over-exert yourself in the snow. "If you sweat, you're dead". I at last understood why. The sweat was rapidly freezing, and only by further exerting myself could I stay warm. But that only made me sweat more. In my peripheral vision I glimpsed a familiar form. Sailing lazily past, just behind the trees, dangling legs not quite touching the ground. I whimpered, and upon spotting a cave entrance, I made a beeline for it.

Why? Couldn't tell ya. Something primal? It felt safe. Once I was deep enough inside, I grasped why ancient men rode out winters here. Underground the temperature stays constant year-round. Being that I knew I was far from the first to discover this, it was almost unsurprising to discover the altar.

The cave widened into an atrium with a relatively flat floor and a circle of stone monoliths around a flat, table-like surface in the center. Symbols comprised of angular intersecting lines were carved into every inch of the stones…except for a single sentence in legible English, added recently by the looks of it. "There is no death here but what it allows." On the altar lay the partially decomposed remains of a rabbit. Someone must've left it here not too long ago, else there’d be only bones.

As I looked on, the remains began to twitch subtly. Fur crept over bone, legs filled out with muscle. Decomposition in reverse, all too familiar. The rapid twitchy motion, so much like time lapse or stop motion, ‘til the animal was fully restored. It got up, sniffed the air, then hopped towards the cave entrance. Against the light streaming in from outside, I glimpsed the silhouette of what looked like a tall, muscular, hairy man with antlers.

I was up and running before I consciously decided to. I also only realized I was crying when I stopped, out of breath in total darkness. I wiped away frozen mucus but could not get my thoughts in order. The purest, most visceral fear I'd ever felt ripped through my body and every attempt to control it only made it worse. That moment, I felt hot breath on my neck.

No idea how long I was out. I woke up in an unfamiliar but comfortable bed, beneath an itchy quilt. As my vision cleared up, I resolved it as a log cabin. A plump old woman with stringy gray hair sat in a rocker by the fire, smiling warmly at me. I tried to speak, but couldn't form words. Trying to get up was also fruitless. "Oh don't push yourself, you're still weak." There were so many questions, but I gave up for the time being and took in more of my surroundings.

She must've found me, I thought. Did I make it out of the cave on my own? Couldn't remember. The woman just smiled, wrapped up cozy as could be in her blanket, rocking contentedly. Surely she didn't build this cabin herself? Perhaps when she was younger. "Young man, did you know there's no hunting allowed in these woods? Don't fret about your gun, it's by the door." There it was, propped up against the wall, alongside dozens more of various makes and models.

My voice finally returned, though weak and raspy. "Where am I?" She continued to smile with that bucolic vacancy. "Do you live here alone?" More maddening silence. "How far away did you find me? I need to get back to my car." Only now did she furrow her brow, carefully considering how to reply before her lips moved. "Settle down dear. You’re not going anywhere, not after what you saw." She stood up. The blanket fell away. And with it, the illusion of the old woman.

1. Cover image courtesy of Valentin Salja via Unsplash