Jacob hunched over the screen, his jaw tight with determination. He had to be right. The signs, the coincidences—it was all too much to dismiss. His drone drifted over the dense forest, the screen showing nothing but an endless sea of trees. Doubt gnawed at him. Had he been chasing ghosts?
Then—movement. His breath hitched as something flickered on the monitor. Heart pounding, he zoomed in, his fingers shaking slightly. There it was. Cold, undeniable proof. Relief surged through him, but it was fleeting. Something was wrong. The image sharpened, revealing a chilling detail he hadn’t expected.
Jacob’s stomach twisted. His triumph soured into dread as he processed what he was seeing. His heartbeat roared in his ears, a cold sweat prickling at his skin. This wasn’t just proof that he was right—it was something much, much worse.
Jacob sat rigidly in the police station’s waiting room, his fingers drumming anxiously against his notebook. The minutes stretched unbearably long, the air thick with the stench of old coffee and indifference. He had been waiting for over half an hour, watching officers pass him by like he was invisible. No one cared. No one believed him.
Grinding his teeth, he pushed himself up and walked to the front desk. “Hey,” he said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “Would you please listen to what I have to say? Just write my report.” His pulse pounded in his ears, but he forced himself to stay composed.
The officer let out a slow, tired sigh, finally looking up at Jacob with weary eyes. “Listen, kid,” he said, voice flat. “Do you know how many crackpot stories we hear every day? If I had a report for every ‘shadow in the woods’ or ‘mysterious figure,’ we’d have no time for actual crimes. Bring me something solid—maybe, someone will take you seriously.”
Jacob swallowed hard and slumped back into his chair. The words hit harder than he expected. He had no proof—just his instincts, his research, and the undeniable certainty that he wasn’t wrong. His fists clenched. He had seen what he had seen. And if no one else believed him, he would have to prove it himself.
Jacob sighed, running a hand through his hair before pushing himself up from the chair. The officer’s words still rang in his head as he made his way out of the station. He climbed into his car, slamming the door shut. The engine rumbled, and he pulled onto the empty road, his mind racing.
Glendale was a small, mountainous town, where the forest wasn’t just scenery—it was a way of life. Jacob had grown up surrounded by trees, his parents both forest rangers. He knew every hidden trail, every whisper the wind carried. Now, for the first time, the forest felt unfamiliar. Something was wrong.
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as his mind drifted back to a month ago. That morning, he had come across a broken trail camera during his routine jog. The casing was cracked, the lens shattered. He frowned but shrugged it off, thinking an animal had knocked it down. He had been so naive.
But it hadn’t been a one-off thing. Over the next few days, he noticed unusual signs—trampled underbrush, makeshift campsites hidden beneath foliage, cigarette butts scattered across the ground. He assumed careless hikers had left them behind, but something didn’t sit right. The feeling of unease began to grow.
Then he found the carcass. It wasn’t the remains of an animal taken by a predator—Jacob had seen enough in the wild to recognize that. The wounds were too precise, unnatural. The body had been abandoned, not consumed. A chill crept up his spine. Something sinister was happening in the forest.
The final confirmation came when he heard the sound. A sharp, agonized wail cut through the trees during one of his morning runs. It didn’t seem natural at all. It was desperate, pained. His heart pounded as he followed the sound, but by the time he arrived, silence had taken over.
Jacob had gone straight to the forest rangers, recounting everything—the broken camera, the carcass, the strange noises. He had expected concern, urgency. Instead, they dismissed him. “Probably just a hunter passing through,” one had said. Another laughed, “You’re spending too much time in the woods, Jacob.”
Now, as he drove past the towering trees, frustration simmered beneath his skin. He knew what he had seen. He knew the signs. If no one else would take it seriously, then he had no choice—he would return to the forest. And this time, he wouldn’t leave without evidence.
Since that day, Jacob had been returning to the police station regularly, hoping someone would finally listen. But every time, he was met with dismissive glances, half-hearted nods, and polite refusals. To them, he was just another struggling journalist looking for a sensational story. But that wasn’t why he was doing this.
The forest was his home. After his parents’ deaths, it was all he had left of his childhood, the only place where he still felt connected to them. Watching its silence being filled with suffering, was unbearable. He wasn’t chasing a scoop—he was trying to protect what mattered most.
That night, Jacob lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind churning. He needed evidence—something undeniable. But how? His theories weren’t enough. He had to find proof. Over and over, he replayed everything he had seen, every sign, every sound, searching for a way to make someone believe him.
The next morning, driven by desperation, he returned to the forest. He retraced his steps, visiting every spot where he had found signs of intrusion. But it was as if the forest had erased the evidence. The campsites were gone. The carcass had disappeared. It was like nothing had ever happened.
Frustration clawed at his chest. Every lead had vanished, and without proof, he was just another paranoid man ranting about shadows in the woods. He needed something tangible, something irrefutable. And then, like a lightning strike, the idea hit him—he needed a drone.
Jacob rushed into town, heading straight for the hunting store. He emptied his savings on the best model he could afford, a high-resolution camera attached to a sleek, lightweight frame. This was it. This was how he would prove everything.
Excitement surged through him as he set up the drone for its first flight. He watched the screen with anticipation, the device soaring high above the treetops, granting him a perspective he had never had before. But as he scanned the footage, his enthusiasm waned. There was nothing—just endless trees and wildlife going about their day.
For days, he repeated the process, sending the drone over different parts of the forest, watching every shadow, every movement. But the results were always the same. Trees. Birds. A wandering deer. Nothing suspicious. His frustration deepened. He changed locations, altered flight paths, but the footage remained the same. The longer he searched, the more foolish he felt.
His patience began to wear thin. He poured over the footage at night, his eyes burning from staring at the screen for hours. Had he really convinced himself of something that wasn’t there? Every day that passed without results chipped away at his certainty. He was running out of time—and hope.
Then, one morning, he hesitated before launching the drone. Maybe it was pointless. Maybe he had wasted weeks chasing a ghost. But he pushed those doubts aside and sent the device soaring. One last attempt. One last chance.
At first, it was just like every other day. Trees stretched endlessly, the forest undisturbed. He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. But then—something flickered on the screen. His breath hitched. He zoomed in, heart pounding. Something was there. Something that didn’t belong.
His pulse quickened as he adjusted the camera, trying to get a clearer look. Shadows shifted beneath the trees, movement barely discernible. And then, for the first time in weeks, Jacob felt it—that sharp, unmistakable jolt of certainty.
Jacob’s heart pounded as he finally had what he needed—proof. There it was, a small campsite hidden beneath the thick canopy, confirming that people had been moving through the forest. Relief surged through him, but it was fleeting. Something gnawed at his gut as he zoomed in further.
Ecstatic, he leaned closer to the screen. This was it—irrefutable evidence. But as he sharpened the image, his excitement turned to horror. Just beyond the campsite, a moose lay sprawled on the forest floor. Its massive body barely moved, its breath slow and labored.
Jacob swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He maneuvered the drone, inching it closer to get a better look. The moose’s leg had a deep gash, fresh and jagged. It had been caught in something—maybe a snare. His stomach twisted at the sight.
His first instinct was to document everything. He adjusted the drone’s camera, ensuring he got the clearest shot possible. He needed to show the rangers undeniable proof. This was it—this would make them believe him. But as the drone hovered closer, the moose stirred, its eyes snapping open.
In an instant, the animal went berserk. With a sudden, desperate burst of energy, it thrashed, kicking up dirt and leaves. Jacob barely had time to react before the massive antlers swung violently. With one powerful strike, the moose sent the drone spiraling. Jacob’s screen flickered, then went black. Static buzzed in his ears.
He bolted upright, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His only evidence—gone. The moose was in pain, and now, if he went to the rangers with nothing but his word, they’d dismiss him again. But he couldn’t just leave it there. The wound was bad, and the animal wouldn’t survive long without help.
Jacob clenched his jaw, torn between logic and instinct. He could go back to town, try to convince the rangers without footage, but they wouldn’t believe him. He could also try flying another drone, but that would take too much time. The moose needed help now. Every second counted.
His decision solidified. He grabbed his digital camera and a medical box, stuffed it into his backpack, and yanked on his boots. He was going into the forest himself. No more waiting, no more hesitation. He wasn’t going to wait for people to believe him, he would go save the moose himself.
Jacob unfolded the map on a rock, his fingers tracing the location where he had last flown the drone. The campsite had been nestled deep within the forest, in a place he had never ventured before. His stomach tightened. He knew this wasn’t just a story—it was real, urgent. He had to act now.
“Saw something in the forest. Going to investigate. Call the cops if I don’t respond by evening.” His fingers hovered over the send button, a war waging inside him. Was this reckless? Stupid? His gut churned with dread, but he pressed send anyway. Someone needed to know, just in case he didn’t make it back.
He switched on his phone’s tracking location, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and stepped into the treeline. The forest swallowed him instantly. Every shadow felt like a threat. His heart pounded violently, each step feeling heavier than the last. He wasn’t sure if he was being brave or walking straight into danger.
Doubt overshadowed his bravado. He was a journalist, not a hero. What if he got lost? What if he couldn’t help the moose? Worse—what if whoever had set up that camp was still there? His hands shook, but determination overpowered fear. He had to keep going.
The forest floor was treacherous, roots twisting beneath his feet like traps. He stumbled more than once, his breath ragged as he pushed forward. The deeper he went, the more suffocating the silence became. It wasn’t just quiet—it was unnatural, like the forest itself was holding its breath.
He checked his map again. He was still heading in the right direction, but the oppressive stillness gnawed at him. Every crack of a twig made his pulse jump. The trees loomed taller here, their dense branches blocking out the last slivers of light. This was unfamiliar ground. And he was completely alone.
Just as doubt began to claw its way back in, a low, guttural grunt shattered the silence. Jacob froze. His breath hitched in his throat. He turned his head slowly, scanning the thick brush, heart hammering against his ribs. Then—another sound. Closer. More labored. His hands clenched into fists.
Swallowing the lump of fear in his throat, he stepped toward the sound, his body tense. The undergrowth thickened, branches clawing at his clothes, the scent of damp earth filling his lungs. Then, through the tangled mess of leaves and shadows, he saw it. The campsite was in ruins. And beside it, lying motionless, was the moose. Its chest rose and fell in uneven, struggling breaths.
Jacob’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the massive creature before him. He had seen moose before, but never this close. The sheer size of it was staggering. Lying there, injured and vulnerable, it still radiated power. A deep, fearful respect settled in his chest.
The moose let out a weak, pitiful whimper, its labored breaths shuddering through its enormous frame. Jacob’s heart clenched at the sound. It was in agony, completely helpless. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to move past the fear. He had to help. There was no one else here.
His eyes dropped to the animal’s hind leg, where a crude trap of barbed wire had cut deep into its flesh. Blood clung to the metal, staining the ground beneath it. Jacob’s stomach churned with anger. Someone had done this. Someone had left it to suffer.
Taking a slow step forward, he whispered in a soothing voice, trying to keep his presence non-threatening. The moose’s dark eyes locked onto him, wide and uncertain. Every moment stretched unbearably long as he knelt, hands shaking, and carefully began cutting away the wire wrapped around its leg.
The moose didn’t move, just stared at him, its gaze heavy with pain and quiet desperation. Jacob’s fingers worked fast but gentle, peeling the metal away from the wounded flesh. The deep gashes left behind made his stomach twist, but at least the worst was over. The trap was gone.
Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out his medical kit. He wasn’t a vet, but he had seen his mother tend to injured animals enough times to know what to do. Carefully, he cleaned the wound, wincing when the moose shuddered in pain, and then wrapped it tightly with gauze.
When he was finished, he hesitated, watching the moose. It was weak, trembling, but no longer bleeding. Slowly, it stretched its neck forward and licked his hand, a warm, rough gesture that sent a lump straight to his throat. As if it was thanking him.
Jacob let out a shaky breath and turned his attention to the ruined campsite. The tent’s zipper was broken, the fire pit scattered as if someone had left in a hurry. He pulled out his camera, snapping photo after photo. If the rangers didn’t believe him before, they would now.
Jacob focused on his camera, capturing every detail of the wrecked campsite. The broken tent, the scattered fire pit—it was all evidence. He had come here for this, for proof. But then, behind him, a deep, ragged huff made his breath hitch. He turned sharply, heart hammering. The moose was trying to stand.
He watched, transfixed, as the enormous creature struggled, its massive frame trembling with effort. Every muscle in its body quivered under the strain. It let out a low, pained grunt, its breath heavy and uneven. After several agonizing moments, it finally rose, swaying slightly but standing tall. Jacob’s pulse pounded in his ears. Why was it pushing itself so hard?
The moose stood still, its large, dark eyes locked onto Jacob’s. There was something intense, almost urgent, in its gaze. Then, without warning, it took a few staggered steps toward the trees. Jacob tensed, confused. The moose turned back to him, nostrils flaring, ears twitching. It was waiting for him.
A strange chill crawled up Jacob’s spine. Was it calling him? The moose swished its antlers toward the dense forest, a slow, deliberate motion. Then it did it again—walking forward, stopping, looking back. The realization hit him like a jolt of electricity. It wasn’t just moving—it wanted him to follow.
His breath hitched. This wasn’t part of the plan. He had come here to help, to gather evidence and get out before nightfall. But the sky was already bruising with twilight, and the forest ahead looked impossibly dark. Going deeper now, alone and unarmed, felt like walking straight into a trap.
But then he looked into the moose’s eyes again. They weren’t just desperate; they were afraid. Something out there had terrified this creature. It wasn’t just asking him to follow—it was pleading. The weight of that realization settled heavy in Jacob’s chest, stirring something deep inside him.
A sharp gust of wind rustled the trees, making the branches groan like something alive. Jacob clenched his jaw, every instinct screaming at him to turn back. His fingers tightened around the camera as he took a hesitant step forward, testing the moment. The moose stilled, watching him, its ears twitching. Then, as if satisfied, it turned and moved deeper into the woods.
Jacob swallowed down the fear rising in his throat. His skin prickled as he forced his legs to move. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to stop, to turn back while he still could. But his feet kept going, drawn forward by something bigger than logic. He couldn’t ignore it.
The moose limped ahead, its body swaying with every step, but it pressed on, determined. Jacob followed cautiously, his hands clenched into fists. The creature’s grunts of pain made his chest tighten, but he didn’t dare speak.
The forest thickened around them, and the air grew dense with the sounds of unseen creatures. The occasional rustle of leaves, a distant snap of a branch—Jacob’s skin crawled. The once familiar woods felt foreign, alive with unseen eyes. Each step sent his pulse hammering in his ears.
They had been walking for a long while, longer than Jacob had anticipated. His legs ached, and doubt gnawed at him. He chastised himself for following a wounded animal this deep into the wild. He should have left, gone to the rangers, let them handle the rest. But he hadn’t.
He glanced at the moose limping ahead, its labored breaths misting in the cool evening air. It was exhausted, but it didn’t stop. Something was pushing it forward, something urgent. Jacob exhaled sharply. He couldn’t abandon it now.
Steeling his nerves, he kept moving, matching the moose’s slow but persistent pace. The underbrush snagged at his clothes, low-hanging branches scratched his arms, but he didn’t stop. He had come this far. The moose had trusted him. He owed it to both of them to see this through.
After what felt like hours, the moose finally stopped. Its massive frame trembled with exertion as it stood near a towering rock formation, its breath coming in sharp huffs. Jacob halted behind the rock, his pulse erratic.
He took a cautious step forward, peering around the boulder. His breath hitched. Just beyond the clearing lay a massive industrial setup, larger than anything he had imagined. Blinding flood lights illuminated the area, casting eerie shadows against the trees. Men moved about with firearms and heavy machinery.
His stomach twisted. He had expected some illegal loggers or trespassers. But this—this was an operation. Large excavation pits scarred the forest floor, their depths disappearing into darkness. Conveyor belts carried chunks of rock and soil toward waiting trucks. His hands shook as he realized the scale of what was happening here.
Jacob’s horror deepened. The forest wasn’t just being disturbed—it was being gutted. The workers moved quickly, loading the cargo with a sense of urgency. This wasn’t just reckless destruction. It was deliberate, methodical. He had stumbled onto something much bigger than he had ever anticipated.
Jacob craned his neck, inching forward to get a better look at the site. His heart pounded as he tried to take in every detail. But as he shifted his weight, his foot slid. The mud beneath the rock was slick, and before he could catch himself, he slipped, landing with a loud thwap.
The clanking of machinery stilled. The floodlights hummed in the sudden silence. Jacob’s breath hitched as he looked up. The workers turned toward the sound, their expressions sharp with suspicion. One of them, a burly man with a thick beard, smirked. “Well, well,” he drawled. “What do we have here?”
Jacob’s fear spiked, but rage burned through it just as quickly. His hands curled into fists as he pushed himself up. “How could you do this?” His voice trembled, but the fury in it was unmistakable. “How could you destroy the forest like this?” The miners only laughed, the sound hollow and careless.
Two of them moved toward him. Jacob’s muscles locked in terror as they closed in, their boots crunching against the dirt. His mind screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move. Just as their hands reached for him, a deep, guttural roar shattered the air.
The moose. It stomped forward, nostrils flaring, its massive antlers lowering in a warning. The men skidded to a stop, their confidence flickering. One of them cursed under his breath, backing away. But the leader, unfazed, turned sharply and barked, “Get the rifle. Now.”
Jacob’s stomach dropped. His pulse roared in his ears. If they took down the moose, there was nothing left to protect him. He tried to think, to plan, but panic clouded his thoughts. This was it. He had come so far, but he was going to fail. He would never be able to expose the truth.
Then, over the heavy pounding of his heart, another sound rose. Barking. The deep, sharp barks of police dogs. And then—engines. Headlights cut through the trees, their beams slicing across the darkened site. Tires skidded over the dirt. The rangers were here.
The workers spun in alarm. “Go!” one of them shouted, shoving past the others. Chaos erupted. Men bolted in every direction, scrambling to escape. But there was nowhere to go. The police were already closing in, shouting orders, guns drawn. The illegal miners never made it far.
Jacob collapsed to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His body shook, the weight of it all crashing into him at once. Boots pounded against the ground, and then a familiar voice called his name. He looked up, dazed, as his best friend climbed out of one of the ranger cars.
A choked laugh bubbled out of Jacob as he was pulled to his feet. Relief, gratitude, exhaustion—all of it flooded him at once. He let out a breathless chuckle and hugged his friend tight, the reality of his survival settling in. The nightmare was over. He had saved the forest!
In the days that followed, the forest was assessed for damage, and the site was shut down permanently. The illegal mining operation was dismantled, and Jacob’s bravery did not go unnoticed. The town council honored him with an award, a symbol of his unwavering courage and determination. His efforts proved that one voice could make a difference.
His story spread far beyond Glendale, drawing national attention. Journalists flocked to interview him, eager to recount the harrowing tale of the lone journalist who uncovered a dark secret buried deep in the woods. But despite the newfound acclaim, Jacob remained humble—he had never done it for recognition. He had done it for the forest.
One evening, as the sun dipped behind the trees, Jacob stood at the forest’s edge, inhaling the crisp air. The woods whispered around him, alive and thriving once more. A rustle in the underbrush made him turn, and for a fleeting moment, he swore he saw a familiar silhouette—a silent nod from the forest he had fought to protect.