The Wrong Side of the Food Chain

At first, I only feel them. I have an awkward sensation from behind, like I’m being followed. And I am being followed, only I can’t quite figure out by what. I keep moving down the trail, keeping a nice pace, occasionally turning to look over my shoulder. And then I see them. A distant movement in the trees catches my eye. The gray patch moves silently. I remain still and quickly decipher that I’m being tracked by a pack of Wolves.
I continue moving, yet constantly turning around. I know that I can’t outrun the pack. I also know that I need to get the hell out of there. They can hunt me down and all I can do is give them my best fight. The worst mistake that I can make is to be afraid, even though I am. I have to put my game face on, appearing as large as I possibly can. I have to make myself huge, both in stature and in force. I have to make myself larger than the pack, even though I know that I’m not.
I had begun my trip early in the morning in the midst of a snowstorm. I went into the woods looking for serenity and a higher level of understanding about nature. Of course, I’m also trying to get from point A to point B. I’m on a journey which will fulfill some sort of primitive longing deep in my core. Backcountry travel leaves such a strong feeling of accomplishment.
I move through the fresh white contour of the Wilderness. The steam rises from my body and melts the big snowflakes. I slide one ski in front of another. The fresh powder weighs upon my legs. The heaviness of the new snow grabs my skis. I continuously plant them and kick rhythmically, almost like I’m swimming through the forest. Grinding along uphill. There’s a psychology that goes with climbing, a resolution which must be created within the climber’s mind. The mind must break the climb into complete simplicity. Starting with breathing, which then evolves into putting one foot in front of the other. The climber develops a rhythm and you have to keep this rhythm until you get to the top.
I forge through the fresh snow for hours. I glide through the snow and am really enjoying myself, until I feel the sensation of being followed. I feel this well before I actually see anything. I feel a presence, although I’m not exactly sure of what I feel, and I can’t see anything through the snowstorm.