Realm of the Skogkatt

The brightly lit old-growth forest stood resolute. The pines were almost two feet thick. Even though the pines huddled together, the brightness of the day shone. Thankful for the light, Angie picked her way down the small trail she found when she moved into her new house.

Her new house was, in fact, a small log cabin, consisting of only four rooms and a loft. It was perfect for her needs as she built out her specialty hotel plans. The place sat on nearly 2000 acres, all but two acres wooded. Her home had power, running water, and a cell signal booster. She needed nothing else.

She had moved to the middle of nowhere Tennessee after selling her video channel. She needed peace, quiet, and time to plan the building of her hotel. Her initial thought was to place the hotel on 10 of her 2000 acres. The Northwest corner of her property bordered a state highway, so easy in and out access would be possible.

The problem was no one knew what was on her property, no one living. She had purchased it from an estate that had held it in Trust for decades. No one knew who had owned it previously, the Trust had been blind, and the original attorney had passed at the age of 92. He had never divulged the name of his client.

Before the show had ended, her Producer took a call from a law firm in Nashville with an exciting proposition. On her final live broadcast, she had mentioned her desire to purchase a large piece of property and decompress before working on a new project. Three months later, her home built to spec, she moved in. Thirty days later, she was a proud owner of the acreage.

At the closing, the attorney, granddaughter of the original attorney, handed her a large envelope before driving off. Watching the truck drive away, Angie opened the yellowed envelope and removed a sheet of vellum. There were no words. Instead, she found a hand-drawn map of her property in what had once been dark ink. Faded some now, the layout of her acreage was clear.

Rectangular in shape, the property split diagonally from the Northwest to the Southeast. The map details included streams, pools, what looked like a cave, and clearings marked. The river cut through almost straight as an arrow except for the center. There the river coursed around what looked like a chunk of rock on her map.

Small lines crisscrossed the map. The lines were less pronounced, obviously added later. Angie thought she knew what they were. She would easily explore her acreage without getting lost if she were correct. Her cell signal went down to nothing a hundred yards from the cabin.

"I need to make fiber a priority," Angie said aloud. Pulling her cell out of her back pocket, she opened her notes and added the item to her ever-growing list of things to do. "Enough of that. Time to explore."

The map was in her cabin on the kitchen table. She had taken a snapshot with her phone. Checking the charge of her cell, she saw she was at 78%, plenty of charge for the day's expedition.

Her cabin sat on a small hill at the end of a long driveway. Beneath her house was a walkout basement where she stored her hiking gear. Angie stepped onto her backyard, sliding the door open with her right hand. Her excitement grew when the pine smell of her forest hit her. She would never tire of that smell.

The cabin builder had built a small patio beneath her back deck. Standing in its shadow for a moment, she took in the view before her. The land behind her cabin was grassy and sloped gently toward the stand of trees, marking the beginning of the woods. Shouldering her pack, Angie began walking.

At the edge of the woods, she discovered what she hoped to find, a small path, overgrown but still visible. Unused, the trees bordering the trailhead had grown closer together. The branches of the trees interwoven, "Almost like an arch." Angie said.

In the shadow of the woods, the temperature dropped ten degrees. Moving carefully through the arch, she paused for a moment. She almost turned back to grab a jacket. Instead, she crept forward slowly through the undergrowth until the path emerged, clear and mottled with deer tracks. Stepping out of the growth and onto the trail, she noticed an old animal track too late before her foot smudged it out.

Looking back, Angie could see the small opening and just beyond the hill and her walkout basement. Ahead of her, the path, while narrow, was well lit. Checking her phone, the cell battery and cell coverage were OK. If she needed help, she would be able to call on it. Pulling the map picture up, she began to follow the path.

A hundred yards ahead, feeling good at walking her land, she had noticed three different breeds of squirrels, a dozen or so species of birds, and had even spotted a yearling a dozen yards off the path, watching her intently. The trees bordering the course had intermittently reached across, so she had to duck quite often. No one had maintained the way in years.

A few minutes later, the sound of water gurgling quickly in a small stream reached her ears. Angie thought that if this map is correct, there should be a split right before the creek, I'm hearing. Walking around a bend, she discovered the stream just where it should be. The water in the creek was no more than a half a foot across, but the creek bed was closer to four feet.

"Must flood often," She observed. Above her, a bird chirped as if in response. Glancing up, she found a robin high above her. Tightening the straps of her backpack, Angie leaped across the creek and found the path branching off into two branches, one leading Northwest and one Northeast. Glancing at her map, the right-hand path, Northeast, led closest to the central Outcropping. Walking off, she began to whistle.

The Outcropping was over forty feet tall and sheer on all sides. Angie suspected there had to be a path up, but she could not find it after circling it for the better part of an hour. The Outcropping was at least two acres in size. From where she stood and what she could see, the top was primarily empty with some shrubbery at least near the edge. The bottom was devoid of all plant life.

Her original path split at the Outcropping encircling it before branching off North and North Northwest. Having studied the rock feature, she found herself back at the near side of the Outcropping. She had walked at least seven miles so far, glancing at her phone; she had time to explore further. Stepping closer to the rock wall before her, Angie discovered scratches embedded into the wall as if someone had used metal claws to climb the rock face.

Glancing up, she thought she caught a movement near the edge. Taking several quick steps back, shading her eyes against the sun directly above, Angie again saw a rapid movement, no more than a blur.

"Hmm," she said, "OK, then." Maybe there is something up there?

Unshouldering her backpack, she pulled out two gloves, then hung the pack on a broken pine branch. Looking at the rock face, she ate a handful of granola while swigging half a bottle of water. The ascent would be sheer but completely doable. Forty feet was high enough to get hurt, but she wouldn't let that happen. Shoving the water back in her pack, she zipped it shut.

Pulling the climbing gloves on, she walked to the rock face reaching up gently, feeling for the handholds she knew were there. Finding one with the fingertips of her right hand, she began to ascend the face.

"You're being stupid. I really should be using a rope," Angie thought.

The climb took her more than a few minutes. When her left hand finally reached the top's edge, she was surprised to feel grass, thick grass too. Pulling herself up, she could see the top. Grass carpeted it, thick cushioned grass. The grass ran right up to the edge. Other than a few shrubs bordering the edge, the top was devoid of any features save one.

At the base were three boulders, each bigger than the next. In the center stood a thick, tall tree, obviously some oak species. Almost like a circular staircase, Angie thought. Approaching the tree, she realized she should have seen the tree from the path. "Must be some kind of optical trick," Angie said aloud.

Angie searched for any sign of life, taking off her gloves and shoving them into her back pocket, walking towards the tree. Other than the tree, it was in full bloom. There were no other life signs. No birds, no squirrels, the branches wide enough to provide shade and cover against the bright sun, she expected to find something, maybe even whatever showed itself earlier.

Stepping into the cool of the shade, Angie noticed scratches into the boulders surrounding the tree. Glancing up into the tree, she discovered the most unusual sight. Hanging upside down, claws embedded into the great tree's trunk, was a cat. An immense cat, fully three feet long, long-haired, well-groomed, possessing green eyes boring a hole into her.

"Oh, aren't you the most adorable kitty!" Angie explains then she began to make kissing noises at the cat.

And that is how I first met Angie. I had minded my business for the better part of fifty years when this redhead came whistling through my forest like she owned the place. She was scaring the deer, the birds, all of my friends, and possibly waking the bloody trolls. What was she thinking? I was annoyed, to say the least, but when she looked up at me and called me an "adorable kitty," well, I am. I admit it, adorable, that is. However, Angie being able to see me, well, that shocked me so bad, I said aloud.

"Wait, what? You can see me?"

The shock on her face told me she not only could see me, but she could hear me too. She was only the second human in two hundred years who could do both. Unlike the other human, she did not pass out. Instead, she stood silent for nearly a minute before she caught herself, then started climbing my steps to get closer to me.

Who in the world is this human? I wondered. Climbing closer, I roared, "Wait, human!"

Stopping on top of an immense boulder, the young woman I came to know as Angie stood, staring up at me. Slowly crawling down the tree to a low branch, we stared into each other's eyes. Silently I wished her away, but I knew this one, this redhead, would never leave me alone.

Sitting back on my haunches, resigned to my fate, I said, "I am a skogkatt—possibly the last of my kind. I am called Vokter. It is a pleasure to meet you."