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In Part 2 of the Indian Peaks Thriller, Ethan and Sarah encounter terrifying manifestations of ancient spirits. As night falls, the wilderness transforms into a battleground where they must confront their deepest fears.
Descent into Fear
The dawn broke cold and gray over the Indian Peaks Wilderness, casting long shadows across the rugged landscape. Sarah awoke to the sound of the wind whistling through the trees, a low, mournful howl that seemed to echo the unease in her mind. The events of the previous night lingered in her thoughts—the strange growl, the unsettling quiet that had descended on the campsite, and the cryptic warning from the old man at the trailhead.
Ethan was already up, boiling water for their morning coffee. “Sleep well?” he asked, though the dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn’t either.
“Not really,” Sarah admitted, rubbing her arms to ward off the morning chill. “That noise last night… it didn’t sound like anything I’ve heard before.”
Ethan handed her a steaming cup, his expression thoughtful. “Probably just a coyote or something. We’re in their territory, after all.”
“Maybe,” Sarah said, though the explanation did little to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.
After a quick breakfast, they packed up camp and continued along the trail. The Pawnee Pass loomed ahead, the narrow path winding its way through rocky terrain and up toward the distant saddle. As they ascended, the air grew thinner, and the trees began to thin out, replaced by low shrubs and hardy alpine flowers clinging to the slopes.
“Look at that view,” Ethan said, pausing to catch his breath and take in the panorama. Below them, the landscape stretched out in a patchwork of green valleys and jagged ridges, with the morning light casting a pale glow over the distant peaks.
But Sarah’s attention was drawn to something else—a cluster of rocks just off the trail, arranged in what looked like a deliberate pattern. As they got closer, she noticed that the stones were covered in more of those strange, ancient markings, similar to the one she’d seen on the tree the day before.
“Ethan, look at this,” she called, kneeling to examine the markings. “These symbols… they’re just like the one near Lake Isabelle.”
Ethan joined her, frowning as he studied the rocks. “Yeah, they do look similar. Maybe they’re old trail markers, or something left by the Native tribes.”
“Or maybe they’re warnings,” Sarah said quietly, her voice barely audible over the wind. The old man’s words echoed in her mind: The Ute and Arapaho believed these peaks were guarded by spirits—ancient protectors of the land.
Ethan stood, brushing off his hands. “Whatever they are, we should keep moving. The weather looks like it might turn.”
He was right. Dark clouds had begun to gather on the horizon, rolling in from the west with unsettling speed. The wind picked up, whipping around them and carrying a chill that cut through their layers of clothing.
They pressed on, the trail growing steeper and more treacherous as they neared the pass. The gentle saddle that had seemed so inviting the day before now appeared as a foreboding gateway, leading them deeper into the unknown.
When they finally reached the top of Pawnee Pass, the storm was nearly upon them. The wind howled through the gap, bringing with it the first icy drops of rain. They had no choice but to descend quickly, the trail on the western side even more precipitous and jagged than they had imagined.
“Careful here,” Ethan warned, gripping his trekking poles tightly as they navigated the steep switchbacks. “This part’s going to be rough.”
Sarah nodded, focusing on her footing as they carefully made their way down the treacherous path. The rain had turned the rocky trail slick, and every step felt like a gamble.
They had descended only a short distance when the storm hit with full force. Thunder rumbled through the peaks, and lightning split the sky, illuminating the jagged ridges in stark relief. The rain pelted down in sheets, obscuring their vision and soaking them to the bone.
“We need to find shelter!” Ethan shouted over the roar of the wind, his voice barely audible above the storm.
Sarah nodded, scanning the landscape for any sign of refuge. They were far from the tree line, and the exposed terrain offered little protection from the elements. But then, through the curtain of rain, she spotted something—a dark shape nestled against the side of the mountain, partially obscured by boulders.
“There!” she pointed, and without waiting for a response, she began making her way toward the shape, slipping and stumbling on the wet rocks. Ethan followed close behind, his hand on her shoulder to steady her as they moved.
As they approached, the shape resolved into a small, weathered cabin, its wooden walls battered by years of exposure to the elements. It looked ancient, the roof sagging under the weight of time and neglect, but it was shelter.
They reached the cabin just as the storm reached its peak. Ethan pushed open the creaking door, and they hurried inside, slamming it shut against the howling wind. The interior was dark and musty, the air thick with the scent of damp wood and decay.
“Looks like it’s been abandoned for a long time,” Ethan said, his voice echoing in the small, empty space.
Sarah nodded, shivering as she peeled off her soaked jacket. “But at least it’s dry. We can wait out the storm here.”
Ethan set down his pack and began exploring the cabin, his flashlight cutting through the gloom. The single room was sparsely furnished—a rotting table in one corner, a rusty stove in another, and a rickety wooden bed frame pushed up against the wall.
“Check this out,” Ethan called from the far side of the room. He was standing by a small shelf, where a few old books and papers had been left behind, now warped and yellowed with age.
Sarah joined him, her curiosity piqued. Among the faded pages was a small leather-bound journal, its cover cracked and brittle. She carefully opened it, flipping through the pages filled with spidery handwriting.
“It’s a journal,” she said, her voice hushed. “Whoever stayed here must have written about their time in the wilderness.”
Ethan peered over her shoulder as she began to read aloud. The entries were dated decades ago, detailing the experiences of a hiker who had ventured into the Indian Peaks Wilderness on a journey not unlike their own. But as the entries progressed, the tone of the writing grew darker, more frantic.
I’ve seen the symbols again. They’re everywhere, watching me, warning me… The spirits are restless. I can hear them in the wind, in the trees. I don’t know how much longer I can stay here. I fear I’ve angered them…
Sarah’s hands trembled as she read the last entry, the words scrawled in a shaky hand.
They’re here. I can feel them all around me. I should have listened…
The entry ended abruptly, the rest of the page blank. Sarah looked up at Ethan, her heart pounding in her chest.
“What happened to them?” she whispered, the words catching in her throat.
Ethan shook his head, his expression grim. “I don’t know. But I think we should get out of here as soon as the storm passes.”
Sarah nodded, the old man’s warning echoing in her mind. This place has a way of testing people…
Outside, the storm raged on, but the cabin’s walls provided little comfort. As they sat huddled together, the wind howling through the cracks in the wood, Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling that they were not alone. The wilderness seemed to press in on them, alive with the echoes of ancient spirits, watching and waiting.
And then, through the roar of the storm, she heard it again—a low, guttural growl, closer this time, almost as if it were inside the cabin with them.
Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to Ethan, her eyes wide with fear. “Did you hear that?”
Ethan nodded slowly, his face pale. “We need to go. Now.”
But before they could move, a flash of lightning illuminated the cabin’s small window, and for a brief moment, Sarah saw it—a shadowy figure standing just outside, watching them with eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness.
And then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving them alone with the storm and the mounting terror in their hearts.
What to Read Next:
Echoes in the Indian Peaks: A Haunting Start to a Colorado Wilderness Thriller
Best Alpine Scrambles in Rocky Mountain National Park