FFJ - 13 - Tracks

Boot prints. Judging by the imprint, the wearer favored their right leg. The left was shallow, toe tips dragged through the mud. It had been frozen in relief after last night’s rain was followed by a harsh drop in temperature. Maya’s balaclava had frosted, her breath thawing the fur before her lips. It rubbed and chafed, the oils she had rubbed it down with weren’t enough this season. She was nearly through it, but it appeared that winter wasn’t done with her. Maya surveyed the skies, another cold front. She hoped it wasn’t as numbing as the last. 

The boot prints were an immediate concern. It had been decades since she last spotted a hiker. Any trails leading her way had become too treacherous with the deteriorating weather. One had to be a fool or lost to get this far up the mountain. Maya counted herself amongst both. Just a fool trying to get lost, away from it all. Until now, she had been alone. She studied the print further, but she was out of practice. Animals, she knew. She knew the diets of the wolves nearby. She could tell when the black bears were settling in to hibernate. She had names for the migratory birds that roosted in her trees each year like clockwork. But this print was alien to her. By size, she warranted it a woman’s boot. That and that they were likely limping from an injury was all that she could surmise.

There was no good shelter nearby. The incline grew sheer, blocking off any higher caves without climbing gear. Whoever it was had walked by her cabin without announcing themselves, so perhaps they were not injured after all. A disability then, but she could not sort out why they would be here. A ranger, maybe. But this high up, and without knocking. It did not make sense. If she was right about the limp then this person would have needed assistance, and she had not heard a helicopter sputter by in months.

She tried to trace the tracks, but they had been washed out. This one was set deep into a pool of mud, left to crystalize into place at exactly the right moment. She may have never noticed it otherwise. A mistake, if they were trying to escape her eyes. The tracks ambled out of the pool until they disappeared against the hard-packed soil. Her lips were raw from the dry fur. She reminded herself to oil it again. She thought she had done it a week ago, but her breath must have caused it to run.

Maya rose from a squat, the chill felt within her joints despite the layers of fur. She’d search the surrounding woods, perhaps whoever it may be was afraid of her or her cabin. She kept an old emergency radio tucked away for the worst case scenario, but she hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. She gathered herself up, shifting onto her good leg for support, and whispered a prayer wishing to keep whoever had gotten lost safe.