Humans think us monsters, and maybe we are. Yes, I stand three feet taller than the average human; yes, my body is covered in hair; yes, I prefer growls and shrieks over actual words, and yes, my feet are big. They don't really like us, and that's just fine. We don't really like them either. In fact, we don't even like each other all that much. It gets lonely in these woods, and maybe that's the reason I did what I did. Or maybe that's just what I tell myself. But truthfully, when I heard the human girl fall into the river, what was I supposed to do?
That morning was exceptionally foggy, the forest blanketed by it. As though God himself (yes, we believe in him, too) had reached down with his almighty paintbrush sometime during the night and stroked the forest floor with it. There was no wind to rustle the far-reaching pines and the sky was dry, unusual for this season. We have exceptionally good hearing, but even then, I could only hear the distant call of buzzards circling some dead animal far off in the distance. There was an ominous quality about it. By the time it was high noon and the sun had ventured out far enough to burn away the fog, my chores for the day were complete: breakfast killed and eaten, pines swept, fire extinguished. Any evidence that could give away my location to the humans, I made certain to bury. Leaving signs of your activity can be dangerous, as some of us know all too well. You see, there are hunters in these woods. Not the hunters with the funny hats that look like rabbit ears -- those guys are mostly drunkards and are relatively harmless. I'm talking about real hunters, hunters that threaten our very existence. These guys don't care about ducks or whitetails. They care about us, with a zealous sense of madness. But we’ve gotten good about avoiding them over the past million years or so of our coexistence (and I use that term lightly). Sure, every now and again someone slips, but not I. I was cautious, careful to the extreme.
And yet, when my pine needles were dispersed without pattern and I heard the panic-stricken shouts of a human, I went. God help me, I went.
"Help!" they cried.
They sounded to be a mile away, but my legs are long, and my feet are big. I covered the distance in a short amount of time, hardly long enough for my lungs to feel the burn. I decided the shout was a few yards up-river, so I calculated my course and ran down-river in hopes of spotting them floating by. The plan was not to save them, just to see them. Like I said before, it gets lonely and rather boring out here. If there's a chance to see a human without being spotted, I'm all in.
It was apparent the human was of the female variety by her scent. The age of it I estimated to be fairly young, but not a calf; I'd guess around twenty years of existence. She wore hunter-orange clothing, making it fairly easy for me to watch her progress through the rapids. ~~ I have always considered myself rather progressive compared to my peers (there are only three of us in the entire northwest), and I’ve always believed that we should have closer interactions with humans. The other two, Marty and Nora, think me crazy—stupid, even. Trap me in a corner, and I'll admit it's a ludicrous idea. Humans would place us in captivity the first chance they got. I've seen them cage our bear brethren on multiple occasions. Marty, Nora, and I only meet every other total lunar eclipse, and I like to keep conversation animated. When I’d brought my radical idea forth for the first time, Nora had asked if I had rabies (in that condescending tone of hers).
"You want to socialize with humans? Humans? Stop being so daft, Jake. Humans are vile beasts. You don't want to interact with them. Trust me." She had given a dismissive flick of her paw. I still remember the way she did that, as though she were better than Marty and me.
I don't like Nora all that much.
"How do you know?" I had asked. "The hunters are bad, sure, but it’s not like all the humans are hunters. In time, I think we might be able to live with them. Or at least coexist to a point where they don’t want to shoot us.”
Nora had snorted and turned towards Marty. "Not only does he want to socialize with them, he wants to live with them, too! What’s next Jake, you want a human to share your cave with during hibernation? Hmm? Maybe fall in love with one?”
I remember the way my head sunk in embarrassment under Nora’s obnoxious laughter. Yes, I actually did want to learn to live with the humans. They had great things, from what I’d always observed -- light sticks that could start a fire in seconds, guns able to take down game hundreds of yards away.
Not only that, but from what I had observed, humans also had customs and emotions that my species (Nora, for example) seemed to lack. Common decency and manners, for starters, but to me, the most fascinating was their capacity to fall in love.
I knew about love, but it was something I never had experienced before. I’d only observed it from afar by watching backpackers and picnickers swoon over one another in the woods. I liked how intimate the humans could get in moments like these when they thought no one was watching. The sneaking of an affectionate caress, the burning gleam of desire in their hairless faces as they doted over one another, the hungry passion that enveloped them when they kissed. There were other things they did, lots of other things, but just thinking about it makes me blush like a cub.
The idea of it was foreign in my habitual life of killing rabbits and gophers for dinner. But my kind wasn’t supposed to fall in love. We had partners for purely evolutionary reasons, and there was certainly no love in that affair. Watching the humans made me long for it. But Nora was the only female out here, and frankly I would rather love a dead squirrel than that revolting beast of a creature.
“We’re built to survive Jake, not love humans.”
Marty smiled crookedly, revealing a row of uneven teeth.
Come to think of it, I don't like Marty all that much, either. ~~ The girl never saw me, but I saw her as she thrust herself out of the water one last time to take a gulping breath of air before plunging back under. It was her last fight for oxygen, her face panicked, her skin pallid. Her fight was out, extinguished like my morning fire. I'd like to think I had no option but to save her, but I did. I could have let her drown, and that would have been the last of it. None would have been the wiser except for me and the pines. It was Nora's stupid paw flipping gesture that sent me lumbering through the water to get the girl.
The rapids went chest high, and the current was stronger than I assumed. If not for my bulk and a million years of evolution backing me, I might have been swept under as well.
Oh, how Nora would've loved that.
I took hold of her arm, my claws ripping through her soaked jacket as though it were made from wet leaves. She didn't move, didn't even try to fight me as I hauled her out of the river and onto shore. Her lips were blue, eyelids slightly open, revealing a fraction of the dark brown irises hiding underneath. Her hair was either dark red or brown, impossible to tell, as it clung to her large forehead. Freckles crawled across the bridge of her nose and ended at a birthmark that obscured the entire half of her lower right cheek. Her face was small and rounded, reminding me of a full moon. Wrinkles cut from a lifetime of hardship fingered out from the corner of her eyes. Whoever this woman was, struggle was no stranger.
Regardless, I thought her the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. I also thought her dead.
As I stared down at her, I knew Nora was wrong. I remember thinking that I knew plenty about love as I carried her off into the woods to find dry enough timber to start a fire. I worked quickly, building a small teepee from dry branches and lighting it ablaze with two pieces of flint. I dragged her limp body to the flame and then began beating on her chest the way I saw a hunter do to another human some years ago. I found her breast bone and, careful not to crack a rib, pressed down with one paw over the other to create a rhythm of sort.
She was so delicate. Her body was like soft dirt underneath my paws. It was a struggle to keep my pushes gentle to avoid caving in her chest. If I wanted to, I could have pushed right through her. Seconds ticked by without a response.
I wanted to give up as instinct kicked in. Humans didn't travel alone, especially in the back country. There would be others. Could I smell them? I sniffed the air. I thought I could. Or, it could have been my own perspiration. A crawling sensation started at the bottom of my throat and began to scratch its way upwards. What would happen if there was a party of hunters that came upon me, bent over the girl, giving compressions? Would they know that I was trying to save her from the river that I pulled her from? Of course not. I would be shot on sight.
Far off was a noise. Gunshot or thunder? A cerulean sky shone through the pines above us, but sound was tricky this close to the base of the mountains, and like I said, it was the rainy season. I had to go, flee. I needed to preserve myself and my kind. It was foolish to grab the girl from the water.
She hacked out a torrent of river water, startling a rather pathetic whimper out of me. I fell on my butt and scooted away from her. Those brown eyes fluttered open and locked with mine; reality suspended itself. It was only her and I; the fire frozen in place, the flames caught in mid dance. The river stopped flowing, my breathing stopped. My throat clenched.
"Hi," I managed after a long while.
I expected a scream, she deserved as much. Only she didn't. Instead, she coughed out more water and scanned the area around us, her pallid face chiseled in worry.
"You fell into the water. I pulled you out."
She went to her knees, more dirty river water spilling out from her open mouth. Her eyes were everywhere at once, trying to take in everything around us. She reminded me of an owl.
"You almost drown. In the river," I tried again, wondering what she could be hearing. "Shh," she snapped, raising a water-logged finger to her pale lips. "Did you see anyone else?" "No, only you." "They're coming then." "Who?" "Men with guns. They're trying to get me." "Why?" "Because, I stole from them." "Stole what?" "Meth. Heroine. Pot. I smoked a lot of it before I robbed them. I think I'm still high." "How do you know?" I asked. "Because I'm talking to a bigfoot, that's why." "Sasquatch." "Excuse me?" "We like to be called sasquatch. But that's not what I meant. How do you know they're after you?" "I was running from them. That's why I fell into the river. They're hunting me, and I had to get away, or they'd kill me."
Across the rolling river came a distinctive crack closely followed by a whizz. The bark of a dead tree exploded behind me, causing splinters to impale my back. Luckily, I took the brunt of it and was able to shield the girl.
"Come on, this way!" she yelled, climbing to her feet and out of my embrace.
She turned westward, which showed me that she had no clear idea of where she was. West lay sharp rocks and deep ravines, impossible to pass through while in a hurry.
Another gunshot, far to the left.
I took her hand, yanking her towards me. "East. Trust me."
I saw the hunters, and they saw me as they carefully made their way through the river. There were four in total, ranging in height as well as girth. They weren't the drunk hunters, they were the real hunters. I knew, because I'd come across these four before.
"Squatch!" one billowed. "The girl?" another asked. "She's with the squatch! C'mon!"
She turned to me, her face beginning to flush red from adrenaline. "Please don't let them take me," she pleaded. "I know I stole but I ain't a bad person. Please."
I looked down at her small hand wrapped around my one giant finger. Her nail bed was white from squeezing so hard. I felt nothing of it as my heart pumped against my rib cage.
"They'll never take you. I promise." I stood to my full height, pinched my shoulders back, craned my head upwards, and roared until my throat went raw.
There was a splash as the lead man turned to run but slipped on a rock. As he fell, his flailing arms caught the man behind him, which in turn caused a discharge of the rifle he carried. The bullet slammed into the sandy embankment on our side of the river.
"Can you run?" I asked her. "I think so." "It'll be faster if I carry you." I didn't want to risk it. Humans are terribly slow. "Then carry me for godsakes, just get me out of here!"
I scooped her up in my hairy arms and started to sprint headlong into the forest eastwards near Marty's territory. Branches snapped at my face, arms and legs. The skin underneath all my hair swelled as I tried the best that I could to shield her from the assault. We stopped two miles away near a small cave that I sometimes use for hibernation or extended hunting trips.
"We'll be safe here," I said as I set her down feet-first. "Er-thanks," she replied while wrapping her arms around her. Her natural pale skin tone had replaced the rosy flush of adrenaline. It wasn't at all unpleasant to look at. The birthmark on her cheek was shaped roughly like a pine cone.
I took a step into the cave myself after I realized she wasn't naïve enough to go headlong into a dark cave while a sasquatch three times her height followed closely behind. As I lumbered in, I took extra care to point out the stalactites so she wouldn't bump her head. Once inside, I busied myself making a fire while she sat watching me.
"How are you able to understand me?" she asked after I got the fire started. "I know plenty of the human words," I replied. "I just don't understand how you are able to understand me." "I dunno. Probably the drugs."
I didn’t know what else to say, and who could blame me? I hardly know what to say to Marty and Nora sometimes, let alone a human girl whom I found stunningly beautiful. The only creature that I had spoken to in the last two months was a red fox squirrel who thought I was going to eat it. For years, I imagined an encounter like this and had built up a sizable list of topics and questions to discuss, but looking at her through the flame, they all abandoned me.
"Guess it don't matter. What's your name?" "Jake." She snorted and leaned to the left. "Jake? Jake?" "Yeah," I said unable to help my toothy smile. "It was my grandfather's name." When she stopped laughing, she said, "I guess ya'll have to have grand-pappy's, too." A flicker of silence passed, the fire dancing between us. "Why are those guys after you?" "I told you, I stole some drugs from them. They're pot farmers, but they party with other things, too." "How come?" "How come I robbed 'em?" She snorted with laughter and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Never thought I'd be judged by a sasquatch when I woke up this mornin'. I did it because they're no-good low lives, that's why. They got plenty of money, but you probably don't know what that is." In truth, I didn't. But the assumption hurt. "I've seen them before. They have a real big farm to the north of here." "That's the one," she said. "They're hunters." "Yeah, they hunt deer and shit I guess." "No like hunters—hunters. They're sasquatch hunters." Her laugh was short lived. "Seems sort of stupid until I think about me sitting here talking to one." "They hunt us and try to kill us. They flushed me out of hibernation a few winters ago. They didn’t see me, but I assumed they casted my tracks." "Those things are real? No shit? Rick likes to show them off like they're some divine relic. Who would've thought those things are real. Damn, you got some big feet!" If she'd been able to see my skin in that moment, she would've seen how bad it flushed with embarrassment. We're sensitive to such matters. "On the real side of things, people think your kind is monstrous." I didn't say anything; this conversation wasn't going how I imagined it. "But you ain't scary at all. You're kind of cute in a way. Like a teddy bear!" I couldn’t help the words before they left my stupid mouth. "You're cute, too." She erupted with laughter. "Who would've thought that a sasquatch has more manners than men, eh? Thank you very much, Jake." "Er-welcome."
Outside, a wind howled against the mouth of the cave, causing short and sudden shrieks inside. The sound of it was creepy. I was used to it, but I could tell she was a bit unnerved. Her clothes were still damp from the river, and she had her arms wrapped around her. I scooted closer to provide whatever comfort an eight-foot ape man could provide.
She leaned her head against my shoulder and said, "You're alright, Jack." "Jake," I corrected. "Hey, what's your name?" "Cindy."
I watched as her hand opposite of me fished inside her orange vest and took out a little gray, pointed object with a tube on the end. The tip of it was sharp. "If you're squeamish, I would close your eyes."
I've gutted and eaten all sorts of things, but when she plunged the sharp thing into her arm, my stomach rolled, the back of my knees started to sweat. I passed out. Turns out, I'm pretty squeamish after all.
I woke a short time later with my back against the cave wall and Cindy's head in my lap. The fire was down to ashes, the only remaining heat extinguished as the chill of night set in. She had drooled on me a little, but I didn't mind. There was something that I should have been doing, patting her on the back or something. But I didn't want to wake her, and I was afraid to touch her. I was built for survival, not love, as Nora suggested. They had been right, Nora and Marty. I couldn’t love, not humans anyway. What would me and Cindy do? Live the rest of our lives in the cave? Have small sasquatch children? The idea of a small human with my big feet and red hair made me chuckle in a pathetic sort of way. There would be no romantic love between us. I was a fool, and Nora was right.
Outside came a noise, one I knew well enough. Motors. A lot of them.
"Cindy, wake up," I hissed. She didn’t move. Ignoring all my fears, I gently rubbed her back. I could hear voices, too. Hushed and excited. I shook her. "Hey, they're here. The hunters!"
Still, she didn't move.
Quickly, I kicked dirt on the remaining embers and gently set Cindy off to the side. They wouldn’t get her. Not with me still around. I promised her.
They were closer now, enough that I could smell them. They were the same four from earlier.
"…up here. There's a cave I know." "You don't know your nose hole from your mouth hole." "Shut it, Burt! This is where them tracks led. I know that big bastard's in there." "You think Cindy's in there?" "Hell yeah I do. That monster is probably eatin' on her bones right now. C'mon boys. Safeties off."
Four clicks followed. Then, feet scampering over pines and dirt. If they caught us in here, they'd kill me on principal.
My mind raced. They were close, maybe fifty yards away. Running was out of the question. I grabbed a nearby rock and waited.
"Cindy, they're here. Please wake up. Come on."
I bent my knees and shook her by the shoulders, careful not to shake too hard and hurt her neck. As her limp body rolled, another tube-like object fell from her grasp. I couldn’t be sure if it was the same one that made me pass out, so I picked it up, no longer caring about the men. I smelled something. Something I knew quite well.
Death. But not from the object.
"Cindy?"
I sniffed the cylinder. The scent was atrocious, making me cough. It reminded me of the smell of the men. But it wasn't the smell of death. That came from Cindy.
"No. No."
The rock fell from my grasp as I went to my knees, embracing Cindy's cold head between my palms. Even in death she was beautiful. The men were closer, hesitating by the mouth of the cave.
"Joey, go take a look. We'll stay here." "No way, Rick! I always gotta'—" There was some sort of thud followed by a loud, "Ow!" "Get your ass inside, boy!" "Okay, jeez. I'm going." I looked at Cindy, running the pad of my thumb over her birthmark. Gently, I leaned forward and kissed the top of her cold forehead. "I got him! Rick—holy Jesus. Rick! I got him!"
Artificial beams of light washed over me; blinding me. "Is that…? He killed Cindy! Shoot him!" "Stop! No one's shooting anyone. Think about the money, boys. He's better live than dead. Arms up, sasquatch!"
I could feel their anger, excitement. I could almost imagine their fingers pressed against their weapons, ready to kill me if I even so much as breathed incorrectly. I set Cindy's head down as gently as I could on a patch of soft soil. Slowly, I did as commanded, picking up the rock in the process.
"Holy shit, Rick, he's listening to you." I turned to face them, extending to my full height. They stood in a staggered pattern with the one doing all the commanding out front. "You hear me, big fella?" I growled in response. Three of them stepped back, while the lead man actually seemed to step forward. "I'll take that as a yes. C'mon and step a little closer. We ain't going to kill ya, we just want you to come with us. We won't hurt you."
They didn’t seem to care one bit that Cindy lay dead behind me. But I did. I cared a whole lot.
"Yeah, we ain't going to hurt you," one of the three others mumbled. "He ain't moving, Rick. What we going to do?" "What if he gets away?" another asked. "Then we'll really get no money. I say let's shoot him now." Rick, the man out front, turned his head from me to confront the cowardice of his posse.
A rage was building inside me. These men were responsible for Cindy's death. How, I didn't know. I didn't really care, if truth be told. They'd killed her with that awful stuff in that tube of hers.
I chucked the rock as hard as I could, hitting the one named Rick in the scalp. I shrieked, letting the rage and madness take over. It sounded like a thousand of me were in the cave. All four lights went haywire as the men scrambled. Someone was shooting, another shouting. There were new smells in the air, burnt gunpowder and human excrement.
I twirled on my heels, scooping up Cindy's body and throwing her over my shoulders. I charged the opening of the cave. One of them stumbled in my way and I sent him to the ground and felt the crunch of bones breaking while I propelled myself off of him and into the night with Cindy on my back.
It was easy to get away amongst their confusion and fear. I melted into the night, using the trees for cover and didn't stop until we hit the river to cover my tracks in the current. Only then did I let grief and heartache take over, guiding me over hills and cliffs until the break of morning. There was no way for me to tell where Cindy would have wished to have been buried, but I suspected it would be somewhere far away from the cruelties of her world. When I came upon a small and grassy hill overlooking a clearing of yellow wildflowers miles from the doomed cave, I knew it was perfect.
I don’t know as much about humans as I thought I did, but I do know one thing: There are monsters in these woods, and they certainly don't have big feet.