#Deadfall Lakes

[pcttrailsidereader]

(Photo credit: Nathan Johnston)

Deadfall Lakes are on the PCT near Mt. Eddy and Castle Crags in Northern California. Mt. Eddy, at 9,037' offers a stunning 360 degree view of Mt. Shasta to the east and the Trinity Alps to the west. Mt. Eddy is about a 4 mile round trip off the PCT.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Fall

beautiful words with "fall" to try to include in your poem/story

Befall - to happen especially as if by fate

Chapfallen - having the lower jaw hanging loosely; cast down in spirit; depressed

Crestfallen - having a drooping crest or hanging head; dejected

Deadfall - a trap so constructed that a weight (such as a heavy log) falls on an animal and kills or disables it; a tangled mass of fallen trees and branches

Dewfall - formation of dew, also: the time when dew begins to deposit

Evenfall - the beginning of evening; dusk

Fallacious - embodying a fallacy; tending to deceive or mislead; delusive

Fallalery - a collection or display of fancy ornament especially in dress

Fallboard - the cover of a piano keyboard

Fallfish - a common silvery cyprinid fish (Semotilus corporalis) of the streams of northeastern North America

Fallow - of a light yellowish-brown color; usually cultivated land that is allowed to lie idle during the growing season

Farfalle - butterfly-shaped pasta

Footfall - the sound of a footstep

Icefall - a frozen waterfall

Infallible - incapable of error; unerring

Infalling - moving under the influence of gravity toward a celestial object (such as a black hole)

Outfall - the outlet of a body of water (such as a river or lake), especially: the mouth of a drain or sewer

Rockfall - a mass of falling or fallen rocks

Unfallen - not morally fallen; innocent

Windfall - something (such as a tree or fruit) blown down by the wind; an unexpected, unearned, or sudden gain or advantage

If any of these words inspire your writing, do tag me or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[xnoctifers-eveningx]

Death Work: Animal Remains

In my practice, I use remains, mainly animal bones, to connect with spirits, connect with Death, and in magical workings. Just recently, I’ve taken 3 more animals under my wing, and I thought it would be nice to detail my process of finding, handling, and working with remains as I actually initiate that process. Beginning first with finding remains and initial contact. As a death worker, I strive to honor the deceased and aid them in their transition, as well as bond with Death and use death and decay in magical practices. I have been doing spirit work for as long as I can remember and have begun learning under a few entities how to properly assist and tend to The Dead. As such this is not a “how-to”, just me sharing my beliefs but I’m open to questions and discussion :)

Finding Remains

If setting out with the intention of finding remains, it’s important to be prepared. It’s not a fun experience finding something and not being able to take it then, only to come back and it’s gone. Nor is it a good idea to grab things barehanded. I always have a bag with me packed with disposable gloves, trash bags/old shopping bags, and a mask (death reeks!). And if you don’t end up finding anything you can pick up any trash you come across !! I also make sure to bring offerings so I can leave them where I find remains, as well as personal ritual items used in funerary rituals. A hagstone has also always seemed to bring me luck on my searches :)

Where animals live, animals will die. Forests, wooded areas, creeks, wetlands, large areas without much human activity. You typically won’t find much in areas with heavy foot traffic or human presence. It’s good to find areas with lots of game trials, typically I find remains a little bit off from them. If the area has a lot of deadfall, fallen leaves, or snow, it’ll be a lot harder to spot remains. I’ve also had a lot of luck finding small bones and fossils on the banks of rivers, ponds, and lakes. Be wary of fresh or actively decaying corpses, there is a lot of bacteria and the animal itself can be carrying diseases. Always use protective gear when handling remains until they are completely sanitized.

Code of Conduct

While everyone holds varying ethical and moral beliefs, there are a few important issues I believe people should be aware of.

It's important to try you're best to not disturb other animals while searching. Respect the living as well as the dead. Personally, I don't hunt or otherwise intentionally kill animals but I understand the use. However, I do believe that the whole animal should be put to use and not left to waste. In death work, more often finding animals dead than not, this translates as never taking things that animals/bugs could eat or that you will not use. Nothing should be thrown away in the trash, I believe it is really disrespectful to chuck something like that into a garbage bag when leaving it outside would require minimally more effort. The nutrients of every organism deserve to go back to the soil.

Laws

Many places have laws that protect certain species. For example, the remains of native birds are usually legally protected in the US. Many endangered and at-risk animals are also protected. Even retrieving roadkill is illegal in some places! However, many places fail to impose proper protections on many animals that desperately need it. Always do your research on your local laws and the status of species in your area. Do not trophy hunt irl or online!

Sourcing

I haven't ever bought remains and don't plan to any time soon. I believe that if I'm meant to find it, it'll find me one way or another. Purchasing remains can be fine and ethical, but there are many situations in which it is not. A lot of remains, especially bones and furs, are not ethically sourced. Meaning mass farming, mass trapping, poaching, and cruel killing methods. It's important to know how remains were sourced, especially if one intends to bond with the spirit. Foxes, reptiles, cats, dogs, and skulls (in general) can be easily found on sites like Etsy, The Bone Room (avoid this site!!), and many real-life oddity expos where they 100000% source remains in either illegal or highly unethical ways. If a site sells illegal or endangered animals (bats, wolves, native birds, etc), cheap animals in bulk, or human remains then it is probably best to steer clear! Some Etsy shops will even title their listings as things like “man’s best friend” to try to get around the legality of selling dog remains among other species.

Initial Contact

After first finding remains I intend to collect, I introduce myself and state my intentions. I then leave offerings and ask to relocate/remove their remains. I approach this in a sorrowful, empathetic manner until giving them a burial and cleaning the remains.

I feel it's very important to ask the spirit before doing anything with the remains. However, if it's roadkill or in a vulnerable area with lots of people, then it's more respectful to relocate it to a quieter place. After doing spirit work for a while, instead of verbally asking and then divining, it’s more of a vibe check for me. When asking a spirit to take their remains, you should state your intentions whether that be art, bonding with them, or magical workings. I do not believe that the shade of an individual is permanently attached to its remains, nor do I believe that the shade is trapped wherever its remains are. However, I also believe that every being should have the opportunity to rest undisturbed if it so pleases. If a spirit truly does not want you fucking with its remains, I believe it will let you know through nightmares, bad luck, illness, and reoccurring thoughts of guilt among other things. You should be willing to leave the decreased alone if it comes to that, but in my experience, there have been few times in which a spirit is both still “connected” to its remains and dislikes the idea of me possessing them. I reckon that animals hold little use to their physical remains after passing, dissimilar to humans who tend to still want autonomy. There have, however, been times when I’ve forgotten about remains (either waiting to be processed in bags or actively processing in a bucket) and get a wave of guilt and think “oh fuck I should pull the deer out of the tub.”

I believe it is very important to leave offerings for The Dead, especially if you are disturbing their remains. Offerings act as both an honoring act for the deceased and payment for the remains. Offerings left out in nature should always be biodegradable and should not be anything that could harm any creature that comes across it. Typically, I make small bundle-type offerings from rocks, shells, plants, and sticks. They can also be food/drink (that is commonly safe for the deceased animal you are offering to), written poetry, or drawn art (on safe paper with graphite).

In addition, I always promise The Dead a burial. A burial does not have to be a grave 6 feet deep, but in some fashion, a piece of the deceased should be given a quiet and safe resting place away from humans. Even if the shade isn’t “contained” in the remains, I hold the belief that it can act as a tether for a part of the soul (hence using remains for spirit communication), and the individual should have the option to rest in a quiet place rather than sitting on a shelf. A burial also ensures that the nutrients contained in the remains are given back to the Earth. Life is a gift that must be returned to where it came from for the cycle to continue – thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return. Along this line of thought, no part of a being should be wasted. Meaning returning unused skin, fur/feathers, bones/fragments, guts, and anything you have no use for. Even with water maceration, the nutrients in the water can be returned to the soil and eaten by bugs. The location of the burial should be somewhere in nature, away from human activity and off footpaths. They don't necessarily need to be buried, they could be placed in high grass or in thickets. Scavengers, bugs, and fungi will take it from there. Death and decay remain important aspects of nature that continue to nurture other critters and the soil itself.

Cleaning Remains

Cleaning is a devotional act really. I won’t go into the actual cleaning process here because it’s long and varied, but another time maybe (I mainly use water maceration). During cleaning, I follow several rules to ensure respect for the deceased. Most importantly, I don’t treat remains as a toy or something to gawk at. At one point, these were living individuals and my respect for them doesn’t stop as soon as their heart stops pumping. The remains are cleaned thoroughly and well taken care of to prevent damage. I make an effort to never mix bones from different individuals to maintain a level of autonomy and the practical reason of being able to keep track of who's who. With displaying, I try to give everything its own space. My twin fish are kept together in a jar (they r in luv) that serves as their spirit home, sometimes I will set offerings or candles beside it. TOO, I find it important to spend time with the remains if one aims to form a relationship with the spirits. Just a few days ago I took a few armadillo bones out with me for a walk in the rain, which may sound a little crazy to some but I can only hope that I can feel the rain and hear the thunder after I've passed.

The cleaning process is a long and hard one, it's a good time to bond with the remains. As you hold them in your hands, feel every inch of it. Feel the grooves, the textures, the weight, the temperature. Does it feel cold and hollow? Does it feel like a pit is forming in your stomach? Does it feel like a bright light is radiating off it? Do any memories, thoughts, or emotions arise? It is a good way to get to know the spirit/energy of the remains.

Working with Remains

I don't work with the spirit of every bone I find. That would be very difficult, and many don't have spirits attached to them much anymore. Remains can be used in magic, divination, offerings, and art. If I'm using remains as ritual tools, I will first bond with them, consecrate, and then continuously feed them. Just some of the ways remains can be used in death work and magic;

Connecting with Death

Connecting with the individual spirit or species archetype

Conjuring The Dead: I find that bones can be excellent wands used to call upon spirits. They can be really good tools for directing energy, especially for the earthly deceased.

Offerings to Chthonic / death associated entities: many of the bones I have, I've put on my altars for Hades, Hekate, and Lucifer. Not only because they represent death and are aesthetically fitting, but to place the deceased under the protection of those entities.

Bindings: I believe a hollow bone could be used for a good binding by placing taglocks and ritual ingredients into the hollowed center and sealing it up tight. Bones are strong and hard to break, whatever you put in them will have a hard time finding their way out. They take a very long time to decay, so if you buried it after binding someone, I reckon they'd be there for a long time. Bones are a physical representation of death so there could also be an opportunity for some nasty effects.

Spirit vessels: in a similar line of thought as bindings, bones are excellent for containing or homing spirits. Typically these are entities associated with the species the remains belong to.

Ritual tools and instruments: bone athames, wands, offering dishes, flutes, whistles, drums, containers, osteomancy sets, the list goes on.

Additionally, specific parts can represent certain things and can be useful in certain workings.

Teeth: teeth from predators/carnivores represent power, defense, and protection. They are well suited for protection talismans, wards, and asserting dominance over others.

Claws: similar to teeth, claws can be used as strong protection charms.

Skulls: I would say the skull is the defining bone of an individual. The seat of the mind, consciousness, and all perception. Skulls can be used to bond with spirits or keep away spirits, similar to how a jack-o-lantern works.

Rabbit feet: rabbit feet are popularly considered lucky charms. You can also use them to help you navigate situations quickly and bring about fertility and abundance.

Chicken feet: chicken feet are commonly turned into protective amulets. They usually have long, sharp claws perfect for scratching back at anyone who tries to harm you.

Tongues/eyes/ears/brains: these structures supply us with our sensory perception and are vital parts of most species. They can be used to draw upon psychic abilities (eyes for clairvoyance or visions, brains for claircognizance). They can also be used to dampen the senses, such as tying, binding, or pinning a tongue to shut someone up.

Heart: often used to represent emotions like love. Can be used in love spells or to hurt someone emotionally.

Liver: a common form of divination in the ancient world was to slaughter an animal and then interpret patterns and markings on its liver. This is actually something I find fascinating, look into Mesopotamian liver divination and hepatoscopy!!

Shed skin: shed skin from snakes, reptiles, and bugs can be used to represent change, renewal, enlightenment, and letting go by "shedding your old skin".

Antlers: antlers often represent strength and power as animals will use them to fight with each other and assert their dominance over their territory. Small ones could be fastened to bags and be used as protective charms. They can also be made into wands or protective pendants.

Shells: I've always associated shells with protection since that is their purpose. I often use a powder made from ground shells to pour along the edges of rooms or windowsills.

Scapula: Interestingly, used in many belief systems and cultures for divination. Scapulimancy is the divinatory use of scapulae by interpreting post-mortem markings, or markings/cracks on the bone made by holding it over a flame. Another divinatory use found in old necromantic manuals, specifically the Munich Manual, is using the scapula as a scrying mirror by anointing it with magical oils and conjuring spirits in the reflection.

Turtle plastron: used alongside scapulae in Chinese divination, the querent would paint or carve their question into the bone, drill evenly spaced holes, and then hold it over a flame and interpret the cracks or burn marks.

[omgeveryusernameistakenicanteven]

A Vampire, Not a Monster!

Vampire OC x Reader

a/n: minimal proofreading, we die like men.

Being lost plays tricks on your mind.

That’s what Y/n repeats in her mind as she walks through the ever darkening woods. She’s heard noises she couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go swimming in a secluded lake just a couple hours before sunset. She thought it’d be fine, nothing would ever happen to her. Now, hopelessly lost, that sentiment seems way stupider.

A grunt sounds to her right. Is that a bear? Oh god, what do bears sound like? No, no, being lost plays tricks on your mind. Besides, it sounded too human. Of course an insane person in the woods imitating bears is only a little better than an actual real bear.

Y/n keeps walking, a little quieter now, or she would have been much quieter if she hadn’t stepped on a dry twig. The grunting sounds stop. God if this was a horror movie I’d so be dead, the only stick in the entire forest that could make such a perfect snapping noise and of course I step right on it. I stay frozen in place, still suspicious at the lack of noise.

That lack of noise suddenly turns to an explosion of it, like something huge charging blindly through the brush. She hears a horrible sounding roar, almost like a mix of a man screaming and a bear roaring. Her body feels like she’s stuck in cement, unable to move and breathing much too quickly. Then there’s eyeshine. Eyeshine 9 feet off the ground and approaching at startling speed.

The next thing Y/n is aware of are thorn bushes tearing at her skin as she tears past them. There’s a horrible screaming sound, much higher pitched than the bearman’s roaring. It takes her too long to realize it’s her. That thing is behind her still, pounding through the underbrush as if it’s a manicured lawn. Thinking quickly she dives off the side of the trail, through some deadfall and keeps running on the other side. Getting even more thoroughly lost, a voice in the back of her mind whispers.

That escape tactic seems to have worked, at least a little, the bear-man is still on her tail but further back. Y/n doesn’t stop running like hell, hurtling over fallen leaves and logs alike. The beast is still in hot pursuit and her vision tunnels to a faint light some ways off. She runs and runs. Should try out for track and field when I get home. Pretty sure I’ve never run this fast in my life. With herculean effort she throws herself over a particularly tall, dense patch of bramble and over onto the other side.

On the other side Y/n leaps up, starts running, and is stopped immediately when she runs face first into something. Immediately sure it’s the beast she ready herself to fight, not that she’d win. Hands restrain her wrists and as she attempts to pull away she glances up at her attacker. Instead of a 9 foot tall bear-human hybrid she’s staring into the eyes of an objectively very handsome, though somehow off putting man.

She sobs with relief at the sight of him, but realizes just as quickly a massive problem. Now we’re both in danger of dying. Way to endanger innocent bystanders. Despite her best efforts she can only get out a half intelligible “It’s coming, please, somethi-,” she pauses as more sobs wrack her, “some THING. I don’t know what it is, a bear? Please we need to leave.”

Throughout her entire rambling plea the face of the man grew grimmer and the sounds of the beast grew closer. Before she can truly process what’s happening he shoves Y/n behind him and snatches something up from the ground. Just as he dons the helmet the beast barrels into the clearing.

It stops for just a second, clearly taken aback by finding what appears to be a fully armored knight in place of a screaming woman. The man draws his sword, and with it knocks aside the first strike of the beast’s club. Not that I’m an expert at swordsmanship or whatever but I don’t think what he did was quite..possible. Neither the man nor the monster seem to care what is possible as the fight progresses. Y/n has to scurry back out of the way as the beast charges at the man, swinging its massive club in wild arcs in front of it. From this angle, the beast front lit from the fire, she gets a much-too-close look at its features.

This..beastman is nearly indescribable, ugly is a great start though. Its lips permanently stretched back, showing far too much of it’s protruding gums and teeth, beady black deep set eyes gleam with malice in the firelight, short round ears atop its head, very much similar to a bear though with this thing’s mangy, sparse coat they are much less cute, and a thick layer of fat covers what have to be thickly muscled, deformed limbs. Very much similar to a bear in that last respect, at least.

In Y/n’s musings she didn't notice that thing had taken a step closer, and raised its club with a wild, horrible look in its eyes. By the time she does it is too late to do anything but scream and try to drop to the ground as quickly as possible. Curled into the fetal position she awaits death by mad scientist experiment gone wrong. Not really the “peaceful, surrounded by family” way I was hoping to go. One last earth shaking roar, then soft footsteps. Maybe death has come to get me.

Instead of a robed, scythe-wielding figure Y/n is met with cold, expressionless metal slits and a warm, gloved hand on her arm. The knight is leaning over her. She blinks once, then again, then surge forward and wraps her arms around the man, hanging from his neck. Before she knows what’s happening she’s crying again, thanking him over and over, asking if he’s alright, what that thing was, how he managed to kill it, and a million other questions. He doesn’t speak, just wraps one arm around her and lets her carry on.

When her rambling stops and breathing slows he scoops his other arm under her legs and sets her on a log by the fire. The beast had been dragged off to the edge of the clearing, another seemingly impossible task. Her knight in shining armor, literally, sits opposite before removing his helmet. She doesn't know how she didn’t notice the rest of the armor when she’d barreled headlong into him. They sit in silence like this until she can hardly bear it.

“You’re not from here.” His voice is deep, and oddly melodious, for a medieval knight at least. Finding it hard to speak she shakes my head. “What is your name?”

“It’s..it’s Y/n.”

“Beautiful, it suits you.” He says, with a dip of his head. Sure he means nothing by it, but his compliment makes her blush and smile, dipping her head slightly.

“Thank you, what’s yours?”

He takes a long while to answer, maybe he’s making one up, or debating whether to even tell, he interrupts her thoughts, “Arcan.”

“Nice to meet you, Arcan. I wish it wasn’t after I was chased by a giant monster though.” Arcan laughs with her. It has to be the most beautiful sound in the world. 

After they quiet down again he says, “About being chased by a beastman, how’d you come to be here? It’s dangerous in these woods, a lady shouldn’t be traveling alone at night, no one should.” She decides not to mention that he too is alone at night in the woods. Even in the dim light she can see him eye the swimsuit and coverup she’s wearing. Oh, right, this must seem downright scandalous if everyone here dressed in Ye Olde Fashion.

“I’m not..uh..traveling necessarily. I was going swimming at the lake and got lost on my way back. The sun set and it got too dark to really see. Then I wandered for a while, heard that thing grunting, and next thing I know I’m running through the woods at mach 1.”

A small smile pulls at his lips and he tilts his head, “Mach 1?”

“Oh, uh, like REALLY fast. I think I’m more lost than I originally thought. Where I’m from those,” Y/n jabs a thumb towards the ‘beastman’ for emphasis, “don’t exist and the armor you’re wearing would be considered..well..old-fashioned.”

Arcan nods, “I had noticed your odd clothing, but thought it best not to mention. Are you not cold?”

Y/n hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it but it is a bit chilly. A cool breeze runs through the leaves and along her back, and though her front is warmed by the fire she still shivers and nods. He stands, slipping his cape from his shoulders as he walks around the fire then placing it around hers. It’s heavier than expected but warm and comforting against the chill night air.

He makes food, and shares his water and company until the moon is high in the sky.

When Y/n yawns yet again Arcan shepherds her into his small shelter, less a tent more a piece of canvas propped up with sticks, the highest part maybe two feet off the ground. Once she’s inside it becomes clear this is sort of a one man situation. 

Arcan seems to have the same thought, he lets out a thoughtful hum and says, “Why don’t you sleep in here? I’ll stay by the fire.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own tent.”

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She snorts, “What a gentleman, but seriously, it’s fine. Just get in here.”

He laughs at that and starts the likely lengthy process of taking off his armor, “If you insist.”

Once Arcan is down to his “normal” clothes he crawls into the tent and lies down next to Y/n. She can feel him radiating heat. Is he really that hot, am I just that thirsty and imagining it or am I just ultra alert because of my recent near death experience? The world’s greatest mysteries. He seems to fall asleep easily, and she curls up underneath his cape and tries to do the same.

A howl pierces the night, waking Y/n. Is that a normal howl or one of Satan’s rejects singing the song of its people? Arcan stirs, but doesn’t fully wake, going by dog rules that means it’s probably not that big a deal. Still, she can’t seem to fall back asleep. After turning over for the fifth time in hopes she’ll magically knock herself unconscious she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Why are you still up?” Oohh-kay, maybe thirstier than originally anticipated; that barely awake voice is doing something to me.

“Uh..just can’t sleep.”

For a moment there’s silence, then blankets shifting, “Cold?” he mumbles, throwing half the blanket over Y/n. Everything in her brain screeches, we’re under the same blankets, that’s a big deal! She turns onto her back, ready to reply, and freezes. His eyes are shining in the dim light.

“You’re…”, Y/n feels like she can hardly breath looking at him. This is so stupid! He’s barely conscious and you’re still terrified? One side of her brain hisses, but it's the other that speaks “You’re not human.”

Arcan’s eyes open fully, and he regards Y/n for a minute, “No..but I won’t hurt you.”

Definitely not at all suspicious. Maybe I should take my chances with the furries on steroids. I don’t know though, so far Arcan seems..normal enough. Well aside from the knight armor, but that is normal here and I’m the weird one in that department. “Okay.” She says, more to herself than anyone else.

“And you won’t hurt me?”

Y/n stares for a moment, “No.”

The dim moonlight shows a sleepy smile on his face, “Good, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The next morning they have breakfast and go about packing up the camp. Arcan gives Y/n a leg up onto his horse, a beautiful dark bay mare, then walks beside, leading her and apologizing that he doesn’t have his ‘normal one’. Whatever that means, horses not being able to carry two people long distances is perfectly normal. Maybe he’s got a super horse stowed away somewhere.

It was relaxing, honestly, horses are something normal, unlike handsome men with animal eyes or beastly man-animal hybrids. Besides, the mare is probably the best horse she’s ever ridden. While marveling over his horse more questions about the man run through her mind. First and foremost being, “What are you?”

As soon as it was said Y/n claps a hand over her mouth, when she takes it off again it’s to apologize profusely. Arcan, luckily, doesn’t seem offended at all, just looks thoughtful.

“If I tell you, do you promise not to be scared?”

Can’t be that bad, can it? “I promise.”

“I’m a vampire.”

“A what??”

“A va-”

“No no, I heard you but..how? It’s not. That’s not. Vampires aren’t real.” That same beautiful laugh starts again, though this time Y/n wonders if it only sounds that way to draw people in. If he only sounds this way to draw people in. Does it technically count as being drawn in if a monster chased you in?

“Here, look,” he stops the horse and opens his mouth, pulling his lip up to show me some admittedly very vampire looking canines. “My eyes too,” and sure enough, when I lean down to look into his eyes, they aren’t brown like I assumed the night before. Rather a dark, oxblood-esque shade of red with little flecks of gold throughout. “And my ears,” he tucks his long black hair over an ear to reveal it’s pointed. “And well, the rest of me.” He gestures to the rest of himself, and in the daylight it’s clear to me that he's just a little too perfect, face a little too symmetrical and skin a little too uniformly pale. It seems obvious now, but when you know vampires don’t exist you don’t see a vampire-looking man and assume he is one.

“Besides, how do you think I’ve been walking in my armor all day? Or killed that beastman? Sure there are some skilled human swordsmen that can, but I’ve got an edge.” Huh, guess that explains the whole unnatural strength thing.

“So, if you’re a vampire, why did you save me?”

He seems to balk at this, “A vampire! Not a monster. I’m not going to leave someone to get eaten alive when I can do something about it.”

“Yeah, but couldn’t you have just sent me on my way after killing that thing?”

This is met with even more extreme disbelief, “What? For something ELSE to kill you? I’m not sure what I’m gonna do but I won’t be leaving you alone in the forests of a world you don’t even know.”

“My hero,” I say jokingly, Arcan seems to really perk up at that. He gives me a wide smile, now that I know what to look for I can’t believe I didn’t notice those canines before.

They walk through the day, as they arrive at the bottom of a wooded hill the sun is nearly set. Arcan is tired, dragging his feet slightly. Y/n can’t help but  wonder what that sort of walk would’ve done to a normal man. His mare was tall and took long strides, much faster than an average human’s walking pace. A couple times along the way he’d apologized for the time it took to get here.

“If I had Glory it wouldn’t have taken half the time!” He complains, leading me up the hill. 

Just as Y/n opens her mouth to ask about ‘Glory’ they walk through a stone archway and into a courtyard. There are stables and pastures off to the right, a manor house dead ahead and garden and more forest to the left. Arcan helps Y/n off the mare, grabbing her around the waist after she kicks her leg over her back and easing my landing, then hands the mare off to a quiet looking stable boy. “Normally I would care for her myself but I think we should get you inside. It’ll start getting cold again soon.”

Y/n nods absentmindedly, fingers going to fiddle with the neckline of the tunic he gave her. Maybe it’s some sort of weird vampire magic or just the reality of my situation setting in but there’s a horrible pit in her stomach. A hand grabs her arm and leads her to the house, despite her newfound existential dread she can’t help but admire the manor. Hey, you would too if you lived in a 600 sqft apartment. There are two fountains either side of the walking path to the front doors, surrounded by perfectly maintained grass, rose bushes, and a wide array of flowers, some of which don’t look entirely real. The outside of the house is made of natural stone, and decorated with many windows, adornments and vines of ivy. It looks straight out of a fairy tale. Technically, it is!

Inside the home is even more breathtaking, though Y/n doesn’t have much time to gawk before Arcan pulls her deeper inside. He leads her to a bedroom. This has gotta be bigger than my entire apartment.  “I’ll leave you to get settled, Lady (insert name here). If you need anything, my quarters are at the end of the hall.” With that he excuses himself, presumably to go sleep, or whatever it is vampires do to rest. Sleep in a coffin? Y/n doesn’t really know and oddly can’t really bring herself to care when faced with the lushest, most comfortable looking bed she’s ever seen.

It can only be a few hours later when Y/n is startled awake in that very same bed. She pulls the covers up to her chin, heart beating a mile a minute. After a few deep, calming breaths she peaks around the room, scared of what she may find lurking there. Looking right to left; nightstand, door, dressing table and mirror, window. Window.

A sickening howl starts again and immediately she knows that must’ve been what woke her up. Almost against her will, she tosses off the covers then creeps to the window. She’s trying to stop but just can’t, a deep curiosity already started in her. The stone windowsill is cold, and almost feels damp. She peaks over it to stare through the cold pane of glass. There, just past the wall, another one of the monsters. This one more resembles a wolf, but is equally grotesque. It turns to look at the house. A cold fear shoots through her. Logically,  it couldn’t possibly know she’s watching. At least, that’s what she thinks, until it looks up, meeting her eyes through the window.

Immediately Y/n throws herself away, landing on her butt and scrambling backwards. As she stumbles to her feet she is already turning to flee the room. Not even truly comprehending where she’s going until she’s in Arcan’s room. He’s already awake, having heard the panicked scramble. “Are you alright?”

Unsure what to say to that Y/n says nothing at all. Just stays standing in the doorway of his room, wringing her hands and sniffling to herself. Arcan wraps an arm around her shoulders and leads her to the bed. Constant soft reassurances fall from his lips, most of which aren’t intelligible. Once she’s sitting on the bed he kneels in front of her and speaks again, “Can you tell me what’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s..there was another one of those things outside. Outside the walls, it looked at me.” Y/n stammers out between sobs. Truly she didn’t think her run in with that thing affected her that severely. Now she can barely think of it without crying.

Arcan grabs her hands lightly, and looks at her with a startling intensity, “Trust me, Lady Y/n, it cannot get past the walls. Even if it could I would slay it before it could even lay hands on you.” He moves past her to sit on the bed, still watching her carefully.

Y/n sniffs, and dries her tears with a sleeve before saying, “Could I stay here tonight?”

“Of course. Make yourself comfortable.” He says, standing up once more. She looks at him confused for a moment, then when he starts walking towards a sitting area in the corner she catches his wrist.

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m letting you sleep.” Gently, he frees his wrist.

Again she grabs him, “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. You take it, I'll sleep on the ground or something.”

“I can’t allow that.” Once again he pulls away.

“Sure you can!” She says, snatching him back. “Look I’d feel horrible kicking you out of your own bed.”

“No, I won’t have a lady sleeping on the floor in my home.”

“Then sleep with me! I swear I’m not a blanket hog.”

At this he raises one eyebrow, “I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, “Arcan, come on, we slept in the tent together no problem! This isn’t any different.”

He considers it for a moment, and although he doesn’t seem fully convinced he slips under the blankets. With that battle won Y/n rolls over to try to get some sleep herself. One small issue, now that she’s not arguing why he shouldn’t have to sleep in an armchair because some lady was scared of a weird looking dog, she’s focusing again on his face. His stupid, perfect face that is connected to a man (?) laying in the same bed as her that she could, theoretically, reach out and touch right now. Maybe I would get more sleep on the floor.

Eventually Y/n manages to drift off, and when she wakes warm sun is pouring through the window. Though that isn’t the only thing keeping her warm, a rather solid presence presses against her back and has an arm wrapped around her. Fearing she might ruin the moment if she wakes him she tries to keep her breath even and slow. Of course, the more you think about how your breathing the weirder your breathing gets so this just wakes the vampire faster. He probably has some sort of heightened senses too, now that she thinks about it.

Sure enough, he stirs slightly behind her. He must not be fully awake though. Instead of leaping out of bed he pulls her more snugly against him. Y/n huffs, trying to contain a laugh, “When you wake up you’re going to be so disappointed.”

Still sleepy he nuzzles into her neck, then mumbles, “I’m awake.”

[spin4trout]

Radley Creek

Friday morning, I tried a stretch of Radley Creek that was further upstream than I've ever fished it before. It turned out to be quite challenging. It was narrow, averaging maybe four feet wide, overgrown, full of deadfalls, and tough wading because of mucky areas.

I managed to catch one small brown. But I also managed to fall into the creek and go swimming in my waders when I tried to get around a deadfall. I also got stuck in the muck several times.

I was really glad when I finally got to a place where the river meandered close to some high, dry ground so I could hike the heck out of there!

On the bright side, when I got back to my tent it was completely dry despite weathering some thunderstorms on Thursday night. After striking camp, I went for a pleasant swim in Hartman Lake to wash the swamp off of me and stopped at Susie Q's Drive-in for lunch on the way home.

[lichennose]

ThunderClan territory map! View below for info on the landmarks 

ThunderClan’s territory is thick deciduous forest, with mixed coniferous species near the western border. In the east, the forest thins out into hilly fields, butting up against Moon River. ThunderClan camp lies in an abandoned quarry.

The Sky Oak An ancient oak tree that grows near the lakeshore, its branches reaching high into the sky. Apprentices learn to climb here, as the wide branches and soft, rich grass make for a relatively safe training space. It’s a popular hangout spot in general, especially on hot greenleaf afternoons.

The Mossy Hollow A narrow clearing where moss grows thickly. It’s considered a beginner’s training spot - the open environment allows mentors to see exactly what their apprentices are doing. ���Graduating” out of this area is often a mark of pride for aspiring warriors.

Deadfall Ditch Two big trees that fell into a narrow ditch, their branches criss-crossing into a maze. The trees fell long ago and have since been colonized by smaller plants, lichens, and fungi. As opposed to the Mossy Hollow, Deadfall Ditch is considered a difficult training spot, one conquered only by determined fighters - the tangled branches and slippery trunks make for a difficult battle. Apprentices and warriors alike enjoy training here for the extra challenge.

Newt Pond A nice, weedy pond, situated just west of the Old Path. There’s lots of rich foliage and mud. There’s also a low elderberry tree, serving as the clan’s sole source of elderberries - other herbs include sweet woodruff, horsetail, and valerian. Aquatic wildlife flock here as well, and cats may hunt the native frogs and newts when prey is scarce elsewhere. Newt Pond is widely considered one of the territory’s prettiest locations (at least if you enjoy water).

The Abandoned Twoleg Nest / The Herb Garden An abandoned house with a toppled garden wall made out of cobblestone. The house itself is degrading as well, with a collapsed roof, missing windows, and gaping door. The old garden is overgrown but cared for by ThunderClan’s medicine cats, who cultivate rare herbs here; foxglove, ginger, rosemary, poppy, and sage. Ginger and rosemary aren’t found anywhere else in the territory.

The Old Path Once a dirt road, now an overgrown path through the forest. It winds from camp northwards past the abandoned twoleg nest. It’s used as a trail through the woods and for orienting oneself when lost.

The Greenleaf Twolegplace A campsite in the northwest corner of the territory, situated just beyond the scent markers. Twolegs visit during greenleaf - warriors are careful to avoid it during that time. When vacant, cats may sniff around, but it’s considered too dangerous for further exploration. 

Dandelion Glade A nice sunny meadow in the woods, often blanketed by dandelions during the warm seasons. Cats like to come here to sunbathe in greenleaf, making it quite the social spot - it’s deserted other times of year.

Sun-down Hill A hill near the northern border. The land here opens into a little cliff, overlooking the territory - one can sit atop it and see all the way across the lake. It’s considered a beautiful scenic overlook with oft-romantic connotations.

The Lone Ash and the Cave The Cave is just that, a rocky tunnel that twists deep into the earth; its entrance is narrow and marked by a singular ash tree. Unknown to the clans, this cave system connects to the abandoned passageways below WindClan. ThunderClan cats avoid this spot, as they find it frightening or useless, but apprentices might visit to freak each other out.

The Lush Woods A section of mixed deciduous-coniferous forest, widely considered to begin just past Newt Pond and end at Border River. in greenleaf, the variety of foliage attracts many different prey species - in leafbare, birds and squirrels are drawn to the abundance of nuts and seeds. These factors make the lush woods an invaluable hunting ground year-round. Due to its importance, cats avoid cutting through here on patrol, preferring to leave it be and let prey accumulate for later hunting parties.

The Weedy Clearing A long, narrow clearing that runs along the ThunderClan side of Border River. It’s thickly overgrown with water-loving plants. 

Border River The river that separates ThunderClan from the neighboring ShadowClan. Generally difficult to cross, given its rapid current and depth - cats avoid entering it, as even wading a few paces in can expose one to dangerous conditions. It widens and slows a bit near the lake.

Splash-cross Point A shallow spot in Moon River somewhat near the lakeshore, this location is used as a crossing-over point from ThunderClan to WindClan land. ThunderClan cats use it primarily to get to the monthly Gathering.

Moon River The river that separates ThunderClan from WindClan. Its current is slow and meandering, though the water is deep in places. It gets its name for how medicine cats follow it north to the Moonpool (the two bodies of water aren’t connected, however).

[brawlite]

brawlite's ao3 year in review

2022 was my ninth year publishing fic on ao3, which means that 2023 will be my 10th! anyway, this year i kind of flitted around between fandoms - some new to me, some old. ao3 tells me i published a grand total of 282,571 words, most of which were shared with toast—so that's probably closer to 60k for the 9 fics i published. i also started and abandoned approximately one million wips (too painful to count, tbh), but i do have plans to finish some of them.

anyway, at this strange trajectory, i have no idea what 2023 has in store, but i look forward to sharing it with u all.

(below the cut is a list of all the fics i published, with links & summaries)

mdzs

deadfall trap - songxuexiao - 7k - rated e

A rescue attempt goes awry. Somehow, that's the simplest part.

possess your heart - songxuexiao - 2k - rated e - chp 1/2

Xue Yang isn’t a stalker. Stalkers are creeps. Freaks with nothing better to do. He’s just an invested fan.

dual-wield, doubleshot - songxue - 3k - rated t

Hate looks a lot like co-dependence after so many reiterations.

svsss

waves break - bingliu - 4k - rated e

Something is wrong with Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe will not stand for it.

buried poetry - bingliushen - 15k - rated e

Shen Qingqiu has a gift for Liu Qingge. Luo Binghe spoils the surprise by giving it to Liu Qingge first.

take a bottle, shake it up - mungrove - 2k - rated e

Eddie always knows what Billy needs.

i'd talk but you took the tongue i talk with - mungrove - 8k - rated e

The thing about knives is that you need to know how to use them.

our flag means death

shrike - edizzy - 2k - rated e

The paint Edward uses to turn himself into Blackbeard is greasy, messy, rank. It coats his fingers and seeps into every crack and crevice on his skin. Izzy helps clean him up. With his tongue.

waves break - edizzy - 3k - rated e

Edward copes. Barely.

waves break - bingliu - 4k - rated e

Something is wrong with Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe will not stand for it.

buried poetry - bingliushen - 15k - rated e

Shen Qingqiu has a gift for Liu Qingge. Luo Binghe spoils the surprise by giving it to Liu Qingge first.

stranger things

take a bottle, shake it up - mungrove - 2k - rated e

Eddie always knows what Billy needs.

i'd talk but you took the tongue i talk with - mungrove - 8k - rated e

The thing about knives is that you need to know how to use them.

co-written with @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger:

red right hand - harringroveson - 21k - rated e - chp 4/?

There's nothing like spending the summer down by the lake—soaking up the sun, drinking around the fire. Maybe a fling. Maybe a romance. It's all fun and games until the bodies start dropping. Then, camp counselors Steve, Billy, and Eddie just have to find a way to survive.

if i stare too long - harringroveson - 191k - rated e - complete

After the end of the world, Billy Hargrove is a mess. But at least he has company.

this ain't a love song - harringrove - 13k - rated e

Ever since freshman year, Billy and Steve have been rivals. That still hasn't changed.

[poem-today]

A poem by Molly Spencer

Elegy Beginning with a Text From My Brother

how was the snow

As if the snow were a province I'd visited, not a season come down upon me. As if he'd never stood on the ridge and watched

the whole cloth of it blow in over the lake,  blank and bridal.

Any mark I'd made on the earth, it annulled. The dropped map, the poor footprints of children, the felts I pulled from their boots hoping they'd dry

by morning. The snow was a field I woke in. Here are the drifts of my hands for proof, here is my heart gone

to windbreak. Brother, I am tired  of living bone-bound and uphill, of rolling through stops to keep from getting stuck.

The snow was irrevocable, songless.

A relic. The ruins of the wood.

I made my way home by ditch and by deadfall, all night laid awake in the storm

listening for the scrape of the plow gone by, waiting for the blade and my body

to change the snow's tense from falling and falling to fell.

Molly Spencer

More poems by Molly Spencer are available through her website.

[pcttrailsidereader]

The PCT takes many twists and turns as it makes it way. Often the route is predictable and logical as it follows a ridgeline or parallels a creek or moves toward a pass. But there are many stretches of trail where I have scratched my head about the chosen route. There are times when the trail avoids unseen hazards or swings around to touch a water source. There are other times when the trail has to avoid private land or, in the case of the trail west of Scott Mountain Summit, Camp Unalayee. What is the backstory on such routing decisions?

Tom Buoye shares the backstory on this one stretch of the PCT . . . a story that is both unique and common along the length of the trail.

Why does the PCT west of Scott Mountain Summit (Section P) get lose elevation but becomes more scenic with the vistas of the Trinity  Alps appearing to the southwest?  As you cross over the divide into Trinity County, just after entering the Trinity Alps Wilderness area, the PCT no longer hangs as close to the top of the ridges as possible,  but for 4 miles slowly drops until it crosses Mosquito Creek, with easy access to water,  and then climbs gradually until it gets as high as possible.  It does this because of an extraordinary agreement between the USFS and Camp Unalayee, a private non-profit summer camp.  

The USFS helped to  save the experiences of hundreds of children every year who attend Camp Unalayee by routing the PCT below Mosquito Lake on Camp Unalayee property.

Camp Unalayee was established on Mosquito Lake  in the Trinity Alps Primitive Area in 1959.  Ever since then Unalayee has  taken 100’s of  campers on backpacking trips all over the Klamath Mountains each year.  Unalayee is by far the biggest user of the 25 miles of the PCT that crosses the Alps.   Unalayee uses it to access the dozen of lakes and streams that campers backpack to in the Klamath River drainage.  (See earlier posts on this website about Unalayee and its unique relationship to the PCT -- https://pcttrailsidereader.com/post/58069038741/place-of-friends-part-1)

In the early 1970s, the temporary PCT transected the Trinity Alps Primitive Area on existing trails, logging roads and highways in the north-eastern section of this 500,000 acre roadless area.  Needless to say the temporary PCT was far below Scott Mountain on Highway 3 and involved a hour long uphill hike to Mosquito Lake on the old Tangle Blue trail.

In 1975, as I remember it, the USFS personnel attended a Camp Unalayee Board of Directors (BOD) meeting and proposed to put the trail between Scott Mountain and Eagle Peak.  Several proposals were considered.  The Forest Service was very aware of Camp Unalayee concerns regarding the impact of hundreds of hikers passing right above the lake heavily used by campers.   This would be one of the few lakes PCT hikers would have seen since leaving Deadfall Lakes.

The Unalayee BOD proposed using the existing temporary trail. Too much elevation gain and loss the USFS correctly stated.  What about putting the trail on the north side of the Siskiyou-Trinity divide the Unalayee BOD suggested? Once again the USFS correctly said that route had too much snow that could and did exist into late August in some years.   And would have been much more costly due to the steep and rocky terrain.

The USFS then suggested a route that would contour through the Mosquito Lake basin 100 vertical feet above the lake.  They could have done this, as it was all public land. The Unalayee BOD freaked out. This could destroy our Unalayee or certainly impact it significantly.  No way, you can’t do this. Yes they could.

(Double click on map image to enlarge)

Fortunately, the USFS proposed another possibility that involved routing the trail above the Unalayee access road eventually contouring below the road until it crossed onto Unalayee’s property, forded Mosquito Creek before climbing gradually to the ridge separating the Mosquito and Marshy Lake basins.

But it would require the Unalayee BOD  to grant a variance to the USFS to cut the trail on private property.  It was a brilliant suggestion and after some discussion it was approved with one exception.  One lot owner down on Little Marshy Lake was adamantly opposed.  He felt it would impact his land.  "You hippies ‘had no respect for private property’, he muttered.

Later, when the trail was being cut above Marshy Lake through massive fields of manzanita and brush, that lot owner, hiked up from Little Marshy on the Unalayee use trail and realized that the PCT would have no impact on his beautiful spot along Little Marshy Lake. And to this day there has been little if any impact on Camp Unalayee or other private property nearby. It is a PCT success story.

As a side note, when the PCT was being laid out they (Marlboro Man, as he was called) tied yellow ribbons to the foilage.   He had to come back the following year to re-mark the proposed route with new ribbons as Unalayee campers came back from near Eagle  Peak with hundreds of feet of the yellow ribbon, tied in their hair and to their backpacks.

[steveskafte]

REMAINS OF MCMILLAN The secretive spaces west of Ohio River are scattered with human sign, hints of who once lived here. Settled in centuries past, when that body of water was still known by the unwieldy name: "West River of Antigonish". These woods were cleared and homesteads settled by folks like Donald McDonald, John McMillan, and Murdoch McRae. This tumbledown hole in the earth is all that remains of the McMillan cellar walls, a few stacked rocks scattered among the self-destructive deadfall. But his fields haven't gone to waste, still hayed to this day down to the shores of St. Joseph's Lake. I spent an hour breaking back and tossing out the fallen branches, kicking around the rusty cans and bottles, and thinking about everything this foundation no longer holds up. This was never the way to get anywhere else. Frequented only by the folks who took it to and from home, and never thought to be crossed by the likes of strangers like me. Ending up accidentally down the depths of Old Saint Joseph's Road – it's an unlikely occurrence even now. Through twisting turns and sleepless hollows, with hearts that follow where feet lead. Spring seemed like a distance promise this morning, cutting back and forth from scattered showers to flurries. Bits of green grass were all that gave it away for good. Cold wind pulled a chill straight through me, a welcoming kind of rhythm as I walked where old souls turned to bones. Why not put down roots? April 30, 2024 St. Joseph, Nova Scotia Year 17, Day 6015 of my daily journal.

[theghostpinesmusic]

Mount Eddy Backpack (2/2)

I'd fallen asleep to a clear sky and a calm night in the Upper Deadfall Meadows. I woke up - a few hours later, just after midnight - when the tent wall slapped me hard in the face. Sticking my head out of the tent, I could barely make out the lake, fifty feet away: everything was shrouded in fast-moving fog, carried by a howling wind.

A few years ago, this would have been a disaster for me. Fortunately, I've spent enough nights in inclement conditions since that while the sound and feeling of the wind trying to lift my tent off the ground - as well as the occasional fabric-slap in the face - makes it hard to sleep well, it doesn't make it impossible. My brief survey of the world outside the tent didn't reveal any rain or snow, just wind and fog, and so I did my best to sleep through the rest of the night, and I...mostly succeeded?

It didn't get that cold overnight despite bad the weather - there had certainly been much colder nights weeks earlier in the Sisters Wilderness, plus I'd packed a heavier sleeping bag this time around - but the wind made the morning chilly and miserable. IT'S NEVER A GOOD IDEA FOR SAFETY REASONS SO DON'T DO IT but I cooked my breakfast on the ground inside my tent's vestibule and did literally everything I could possibly do to get ready for the day without leaving my sleeping bag, then rushed to pack up the tent and bag last before my hands and feet went numb in the gale. I didn't bother to wait for the sunrise because the weather was so bad it wasn't like the sun was going to make anything warmer.

I took a darkly amusing picture of Upper Deadfall Lake before heading out because it looked so completely different than it had the previous afternoon when I'd set the tent up.

My plan for the day, which I didn't expect the weather to complicate much once I got moving and warmed up, was to climb back up to the intersection with the Eddy summit trail, but then descend on the Deadfall Lakes Trail to the south. That trail would eventually bear to the east and become the Sisson-Callahan Trail, a trail built over an old wagon road from the 1800s that I'd always wanted to walk a bit of. After a short distance, I would turn south again on the Toad Lake trail, which would take me over a low pass and (you guessed it) to Toad Lake. From there, I could climb up and out of the Toad Lake basin, hook back on to the PCT, (optionally) make a stop at Porcupine Lake, and then head north for a few miles until I found myself back at Middle Deadfall Lake. From there, I would take the lower trail to the Deadfall Lakes Trailhead and then walk the one mile up the road back to my car at Parks Creek. This is, actually, mostly what happened. As usual, it was more interesting than I'd expected. But hey, that's backpacking for you.

I'd been to Toad and Porcupine Lakes before, via the PCT from the south, but everything before and after those lakes would be new hiking for me, which I was really excited about. The first mile or so of the "new" part of the hike was a steep but well-graded descent into the valley south of Eddy. This valley is apparently the origin of the North Fork of the Sacramento River, which is insane and something I literally just learned while looking at a map as I wrote this. Knowledge!

The sunrise kicked off in earnest during this descent, and that combined with the blood finally bringing my hands and feet back to life made this an exceptionally enjoyable bit of hiking.

I latched on to the Sisson-Callahan Trail as planned, took it to where the Toad Lake Trail was supposed to begin...and there was no trail to be found. Now, ten years ago I would have absolutely believed that I was just too dumb to see the trail. Nowadays, though, I've got more than enough bushwhacking and orienteering experience under my belt that after fifteen minutes of searching I was confident in my conclusion that there was no Toad Lake Trail. Hm.

I took a break to think. I could choose to go back the way I came, hike back out to the car the "normal" way, and just have a short, straightforward day. I could continue in the direction of the Toad Lake Trail and hope that, eventually, it might become visible. I couldn't keep following the Sisson-Callahan Trail, though: it went due east, the exact opposite of the direction the car was in.

After thinking and studying the map a bit more, I realized that all "the Toad Lake Trail" did on my map was contour south and west around a hill, climb to a saddle between the summit of that hill and the next one over to the west, and then descend just east of a sharp ridge nearly due south before striking the road to the Toad Lake Trailhead. The country in that direction looked extremely open and easy to traverse, and based on the map would not be that difficult to navigate using landmarks and a compass (if for some reason my phone died). If I got turned around, it would add a lot of time and distance to what was already going to be a really long day, but it was my last day of backpacking in 2023. Why not go for it?

I left the Sisson-Callahan trail and struck off through the trackless forest to the south.

Well, the climb up to the saddle - nearly eight hundred feet above - turned out to be harder than I'd expected due to the loam-y nature of the dirt underneath my feet, but navigating was incredibly straightforward. I never found a trail to speak of, but what was extremely strange was that I occasionally came across a human-made cairn where the trail should have been. My best guess is that the trail once existed, grew over due to lack of maintenance/use, and at some point in that process people had tried to keep it usable by marking it using the cairns that still stand (sans trail) today.

Anyway, I wouldn't necessarily recommend taking this route, but it's certainly possible if you know how cardinal directions work and can navigate by landmarks. Oh, and the view from the unnamed saddle was really great, even though it exposed me again to the gusty wind that the valley had sheltered me from for the previous hour and change.

Well off-trail at this point, unsure of how easy it would be to find my way to Toad Lake, and unnerved by a lot of recent-looking bear scat and prints, I did what any self-respecting modern hiker would do in such a circumstance: I called my wife on the phone and told her where I was in case I died.

I actually wasn't particularly freaked out about this until I made the call: I had a good sense of where I was going, the area was open enough that I wasn't going to accidentally sneak up on or scare a black bear, etc., but I had given Lindsey a particular itinerary when I left the house and now that I understood that the real world didn't feel like matching that itinerary, I wanted to file an update.

That said, I ended the conversation more nervous than I'd started it, as if speaking out loud the possibility of getting lost and/or mauled made it more likely. I barrelled down the backside of the hill into the teeth of the wind, eyes scanning for large, black shapes (of which there were many; all stumps though).

Eventually, after descending a final hill that I slid down on my butt due to it being a washed-out sixty-degree-or-so drop, I hit the Toad Lake road. This wasn't a paved road, but was a clear double-track path, so I took it west. One would think that following this road would be easy and lead one directly to the Toad Lake Trailhead, but alas! It was not that kind of day.

Somehow, I ended up to the south of the road proper despite still being on a double-track path...that eventually dead-ended into a marshy area that was the shore of the (in case you're keeping score at home) Central Fork of the Sacramento River. More bushwhacking ensued before I regained the road proper and then, finally, saw Toad Lake in the distance.

I'd only ever visited the west side of the lake before, and in my semi-aggravated state it seemed to take forever to circumnavigate around to the west side from the southeast, but I did it. There's a pretty steep climb out of this lake basin up to the PCT here, but I was so excited to get to the PCT (and, presumably, a world that made navigational sense again) that I barrelled up it without much trouble. Behind me was a nice view of Toad Lake, which I believe after this trip gets better the further you get away from it.

Despite all my navigational misfortunes and missteps, I was still a bit ahead of my worst-case-scenario schedule, so I took a quick detour south on the PCT to Porcupine Lake.

I'd dayhiked here a few years ago from the south with Lindsey and a friend of ours, and it was a gorgeous little alpine lake in the summertime. It was a bit less photogenic during this moody fall day, but it was still a great place to take an extended lunch break - my first real rest since before realizing that the Toad Lake Trail did not, in fact, exist.

Despite being embedded somewhat in a basin of its own, Porcupine Lake was still exposed to the howling gale. This proved to be a problem, as the food I'd kept back for lunch was a small dehydrated meal leftover from earlier in the season. It was windy enough that it was flat-out impossible to keep my stove lit even behind the biggest tree I could find...so I took fifteen minutes to build a large rock cairn/"oven" to hide my stove in. It wasn't funny while I was doing it, but it was afterward, and it worked!

Finally, about an hour after I'd reached the lake, but much better rested, happier, and fuller, I headed back out to the PCT and turned north. My navigation troubles were over for the day, and I was excited to see what this small, new-to-me stretch of the PCT would show me before wrapping up backpacking for the year.

At first, the trail contoured around the edge of the Toad Lake basin. This provided some great, high-up views of the lake, as well as a few short-but-surprisingly-sketchy traverses. Eventually, the PCT looped out to the east around a high point and I got a great view of Shasta in the distance, along with the valley I'd descended down into that morning.

The views were great along this section, and eventually I also got to see a perspective on Eddy I'd never seen before.

Now heading due north and approaching one final pass, the PCT took me through my favorite bit of hiking that day: a slightly-but-not-too-sketchy traverse through cliffs of "Red Trinities" peridotite.

At the top of this pass was one last view back toward the valley I'd traversed earlier in the day, and from this vantage I could see where I'd climbed down from Upper Deadfall Meadows as well as where I'd crossed the Saddle Of Phantom Bears. It was a neat moment.

From there, the PCT headed two more miles north through relatively straightforward terrain that, to me, in my cold, tired, and footsore state, seemed positively torturous. Once the trail turned back toward the Middle Deadfall Lake basin, though, there was a neat, rocky section that provided another new (and great) view of Eddy.

I walked toward it for a bit, and then, suddenly, I was back at Middle Deadfall Lake.

It, too, suffered a bit in comparison to yesterday's version, though there were still a few of the same campers riding out the weather on the opposite shore, the wind visibly tearing at their tents. I didn't stay here long.

As planned, rather than doubling back directly to the Parks Creek trailhead, I headed downhill at the big intersection, toward the lower Deadfall Meadows. The original draw here had been variety: I love this area and wanted to see it once before the year was out. It wasn't, in theory, a hardship to hike the mile up the road afterward to get to my car.

In practice, it had been a long day already, and though I'd thoroughly enjoyed adventuring along new trails (and non-existent trails of LIES), I was ready to be done. The trek downhill and through the marshes was just as pretty as I'd remembered - albeit featuring less sun and babbling brooks that you'll find there in the summer - but to be honest I was mostly on autopilot at this point, just zoning out mentally as I physically steered my body back to the car by rote.

I think I confused a few people who were loading up at the Deadfall Lakes Trailhead when I resolutely hiked past them and continued on and up the paved road on foot. They passed me in their car a few minutes later, slowed down slightly as if to stop, but then didn't.

I spent the walk up the road musing over what hidden, subtextual message there was to be found in the fact that the last mile of the hundreds I'd hiked this season was taking place on a paved road, with cars roaring past me as I climbed, the roaring of their engines overpowering even the sound of the wind. I couldn't come up with anything. I didn't feel like any of my experiences had been dire or alienating enough for this last, weird mile to serve as some sort of sarcastic referendum.

I'd had a great season, all things considered. There were, of course, ten or twenty other places I would have loved to have gone to and seen given more time, but that will always be true. I would have liked to have gotten to spend more time in the Trinities instead of having them closed for most of the summer due to fire, but hopefully next summer will be better, and safer.

Whatever else happens, I know I'll keep doing these hikes until I physically can't anymore, and even then there will be places I'll be heartbroken to have never seen, or to have not gotten to see again. But that's okay, because that's how walking works, at least if you're doing it right: you never get to the end, because there isn't one. You just keep walking.

[valkyrie-cy]

Dogs IV

“She’s eating them.”

“She’s eating them.” I was roaming the shore of Blood Lake, a new Winchester repeater in my hands and my Colts on my hips. A cool wind came in across the water, and there was no sign of the merfolk who’d been creeping up and raiding my sheep. The old dog, black with her teats low from long years of feeding pups, sat by a piece of deadfall and looked at me with sad, tired eyes. “She’s eating…

[thetrespasserfrontier]

The Trees of Isla Sorna

There exist several versions of Isla Sorna. The Lost World film, The Lost World novel, The Lost World arcade, among others. One is Trespasser, whose jungles, plains, and forest were populated by Dreamworks Interactive in 1997 and 1998. Painted, rather than photographic, textures seem to have come alongside low-detail models to simulate a semi-open world environment.

Jungle The southern half of the island was covered using jungle-assets, as opposed to conifers, grassy plains, or mountain-tops. Broad-leaves dominate vistas and ridges covered in lush vegetation. Below are groups of trees featured within this. -Canopy Trees- The quintessential trees apart from palms are the "canopy" trees, perhaps meant to fill out a vegetative ceiling. Some pre-release material features light beams descending from the sun above, aiding this possibility. There were "split" and regular trees, most of which feature pre-lit bark textures.

-Cuban Palms- Also very frequent in Sorna jungles is the cuban palm, found as well following either side of Main St. at the north end of Burroughs. Simple in form, they project beautific eminence and steadfastness. The variety of models include dead-but-standing and fallen-over variants, as well as individual leaves.

-Royal Palm- Different from the cuban palms, this variety has a perhaps more lush appearance and dignified leaves.

-Hawai'ian Palms- Two slanted trunks and a "twin" combination claim heritage from Hawai'i. Whatever the truth of this, they do seem quite relaxed, with grey bark and darker leaves unassaulting to the eye. Bring your PH picnic chairs.

-Willows- Perhaps not especially willow-like in form, the willow tree does make an appearance in Trespasser. Coming in multiple detail levels, the ones with more leafage do seem somewhat close. If one can look past this, the peacefulness of the species may still be felt.

-TPalm2Trees- Similar in color to the Hawai'ian palms, these two trees make up an un-obtrusive addition to the southern flora. They differ by having fern-like or more-broadleafed leaves.

-Tall Palms- This wide variety (perhaps depending how you view them) of palms seems to be more common in older, pre-release images of the game. They are fairly simplistic in design, possibly with a less realistic appearance than was achieved in later models.

Swamp Not an official biome of Trespasser levels, there is a full set of swamp trees in the game, having been combined into the jungle assets well before the game's release. Industrial Jungle was meant to have an area of swamp after passing the central lake, but this location was never truly built in surviving builds of the game. -Swamp Trees JH- These two models are impressively tall, featuring lightly-colored bark and long skinny leaves. They may not have been used inside the gameplay area.

-(Small) Swamp Trees (+JH)- This set of high and low detail, cypress-looking trees were also meant to fill out swampy areas. Some branches feature hanging (Spanish?) moss, and the bottoms of their trunks appear suited to rest at supposed water-level. Leaves are either broad or skinny.

-Swamp Tree T- An additional cypress-looking tree with grey bark and a small, upright-pointing twig is found in Tres, however may not have been placed ingame. Its trunk is more organically-shaped; possibly its higher detail was the reason for its removal. It features broad leaves.

-Swamp Tree New- These dead plant swamp denizens never made it into surviving builds of the game, having come down to us solely from developer "Mystery Models". One wonders if more than one swamp was considered at some point. They mirror the forms of the regular swamp trees' trunks and branches, but have little-to-no living tissue about them. One, not pictured, even comes with a built-in deadfall trap, for Raptors or an unsuspecting Anne.

Plains The developers of Trespasser initially envisioned an entire, open-level ecosystem mirroring African plains, coming between the InGen Town and Pine Valley. At some point it was determined that this part of the game's vision was too much for the engine being built, and PL was removed. A small number of assets survive through developer materials. -Tree Dioca- These two bendy plains denizens don't offer much cover, despite Anne's wish in order to evade predators. They do make nice scenery, being a bit bigger than a bush and small for a tree.

-Serengetti Tree- This tree's textures are missing from developer materials we have, but their shape can be seen from the model found in the PL 3D Studio MAX scene.

Forest Finally we come to the Isla Sorna forest, populated with evergreen trees. It covers the northern half of the island, surrounding non-residential facilities and climbing up mountain slopes. The famous and once-lost Pine Valley was the heart of this biome. -Redwoods- These are the tallest and thickest of the pines and co. The bottoms of their trunks are so thick that a separate texture image is used for the lower portion to give more detail.

-Pine Trees J- These models feature a few long, thin branches. Possibly the developers would have put more branches on on these models if more ingame detail was permitted. It has a calm, feathery appearance.

-Blue Spruce- Not actually blue in leafage in its Tres form, black barked trunks support yellow-green foliage. It comes in two variations.

-Scott Pine- These blue-green evergreen trees appear to be seldom used ingame. Why the developers chose not to use them is unclear, although they have pointed tops reminiscent of older-generation models for the game.

-Green Pine & Pine Tree- Unlike the other conifers of Trespasser, these trees' scant foliage comes in the form of circular bunches, and not much of that. They have inward-slanted trunks.

-Dead Pine, Dead Trees L and H- Amongst the living trees are three dead pines, two short and one tall. Essentially black bark covers their leafless exterior. They seem under-used amongst the forest levels.

-Dead Tree- This very simple model of a dead tree occurs both here and in the jungle biome, yet may most resemble a dead pine. With greyish-brown bark, its low-detail limbs were evidently separable in earlier versions.

Together with logs, underbrush, grasses etc., these models make up the flora of The Lost World's digital sequel. Sadly many exact species remain unknown, but characteristic common themes in overall appearance abound. Too bad they are generally unclimbable!

[r-epeatr-ewind]

The Eddy’s, California

[shanshupork]

#deadfall #tree #trees #treeporn #woods #forest #lake #lakechamplain #leaves #foliage #autumn #vermont #nature #naturephotography #outdoorlife #exploring #NewEngland https://www.instagram.com/p/B2aN8EzpR9ZrA-aQbqR1MBbcBfTXeo3qaTIGIY0/?igshid=590j2vryd28o

[scullymurphy]

Falling Dark Chapter 26 is Live!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31444262/chapters/96394698

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13886657/26/Falling-Dark

Hermione looked up into the periwinkle blue dome overhead and smiled. The idea that she could just launch into the sky was so freeing; learning to fly was definitely one of the best things she'd done this year. Slinging a leg over her broom, a sturdy one with a notched handle that she favoured, she lifted up, noting the subtle change in the temperature as she rose. Muttering a quick warming charm and extracting a wool hat from her knapsack, she cruised through the Quidditch pitch, avoiding a group who appeared to be doing drills and a couple of people tossing a quaffle back and forth.

She was in the mood for a brisk clip tonight. Maybe a skim over the Black Lake, a circle around the Forbidden Forest, and a quick stop in the meadow next to Hagrid's hut to practise her elevation changes, which still needed work.

Hermione nodded, happy with this plan, and pointed her broom out of the pitch between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw stands. She shot through into the open air, and was heading west toward the now truly gorgeous setting sun, when she saw him. Sitting right in her flight path.

Bugger.

He was still and hovering in space, perched on his broom in that graceful way he had. The green sweep of his old Slytherin Quidditch cape hung down behind him and his white trouser-clad legs were crossed casually at his booted ankles. He was looking down at something in his hands and the light was catching his hair.

Hermione's fingers tightened on her broom handle and she gave a long-suffering sigh.

Maybe she should turn around and fly in the opposite direction before he saw her.

But of course she didn't; he was wholly captivating. Magnetic, even. She was actually floating closer to him even as she vacillated.

And she wanted to see what he was reading.

Because he was reading something, she could see that as she got closer—concentrating quite keenly on it, in fact. He kept looking at it then out over the rise toward the great glen. Until, with a quick movement, he tucked it under his arm and rose steeply (he didn't have any bloody trouble with elevation changes), shading his eyes to look further into the distance. Then just as suddenly he dropped, falling over his left shoulder into a showy reverse dive. Ginny probably would have snorted at it if she were here, but it made Hermione's heart leap into her throat.

She gave an involuntary cry, more of a gasp, but Draco heard it and pulled up short, wheeling around in a swirl of green and white to face her, a half-smile replacing the annoyed surprise on his face.

"How do you do that?" Hermione surged forward, stopping quite close to him.

He tilted his head.

"That dive," she said, flipping her hand over in a facsimile of his earlier movement. "It's rather terrifying."

"Is it?"

"Yes! I'd like to try it."

His smile turned into a low laugh. "Of course you would."

"What does that mean?"

"Just that you're very brave."

"Hmph." She narrowed her eyes.

"It's what your House is known for, isn't it?" He lifted a brow, but his lips were twitching. "Although if you'd been just a degree colder…"

"Draco! Malfoy! It's unsporting to bring up things I said when I was drunk." Hermione tried to look fierce, but started laughing too.

"You're right, it is." He bowed slightly over his broom. "I apologise. Would you like me to teach you to dive as payment for my transgression? "

"Yes." Hermione said stoutly, ignoring several voices in her head that were telling her this activity might not be good for cooling her ardor. "I want to learn, but Ginny won't show me." Actually, what Ginny had said just yesterday when they were talking about this very subject was, "Get Draco to teach you." Then she'd wiggled her eyebrows and refused to elaborate. So Hermione had no actual idea what she was getting into.

Draco laughed again. "OK, but I think we should start with something more basic than a reverse 180 deadfall." He started coasting downward. "Come on!"

"We start from the ground?" Hermione was puzzled, but followed him.

He looked up at her and his eyes were very light. "Oh. Well. The only way to learn to dive is on one broom. Two of us on one broom."