Page 1 of Alokar
Prologue
The woods pressed in around us with an unnatural silence.
Not the peaceful hush that draws one to seek solace among the trees, but something far more sinister. It was a suffocating quiet that made my skin crawl, as if the forest itself had drawn a sharp breath and forgotten to exhale. Every pine needle and branch stilled in anticipation of something terrible.
I twisted in my saddle to check on my father, Zach, watching the fluid way he moved with his horse’s rhythmic steps climbing up the winding trail through Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. He rode as if the horse was an extension of his own body. It made sense—Zach Rainwater, a proud member of the Arapaho nation and son of the Wind River reservation, had learned to ride before he learned to walk. He sat tall and proud in the saddle, hawkish features taut as he surveyed our surroundings. His well-worn jeans and t-shirt fit his leanly muscled physique like an old friend. His hair was almost as long as mine, the dark strands interwoven with silver and tied at the nape of his neck with a beaded leather strap. Despite his growing age, my dad still looked every bit the proud Native American warrior.
I hadn’t inherited that natural grace. By the time I was born, my father had already traded the open ranges of Wyomingfor lecture halls, first as a biology professor at Arizona State University in Tempe, then later at the University of Washington. But those precious summers spent at Wind River under the patient guidance of my father and grandfather had taught me enough. I could hold my own in the saddle, even if I’d never possess that innate skill that seemed to flow through my father’s veins like magic.
Of course, it was impossible to ride poorly on Jubal. The massive sorrel stallion was trained since birth to navigate the treacherous mountain paths that carved through the Pacific Northwest. My father’s mount, Lil—both horses named after characters from his beloved Louis L’Amour novels—was equally sure-footed and reliable.
But today—like me—something had them spooked. Jubal’s muscles coiled beneath me like steel cables ready to snap. Lil kept twisting her elegant neck to peer into the forest’s shadowed depths, ears flicking at every sound. Her chestnut coat gleamed with nervous sweat, even in the mountain’s cool air.
“Tell me again why we’re up here?” My voice cut through the silence as we climbed higher, leaving the marked hiking trails.
“Sheriff Pettrie got a report of a Bigfoot chasing a hiker near the Bedal Creek Trailhead,” my father said, with a familiar spark of excitement dancing in his eyes.
“Bigfoot don’t chase people,” I scoffed, with a roll of my eyes. While scattered accounts existed—most proving to be false—of the elusive creature showing aggression toward humans, every credible sighting described a being that vanished likesmoke when confronted by people. Smart strategy if you asked me.
Dad’s shoulders lifted in that easy shrug I knew so well. “Figured it was worth investigating. Besides....” His voice softened. “Might be our last chance for a while.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. After the two gap years I’d devoted to my father’s obsession with cryptid research, I was bound for UC Davis to study animal behavior and ethology in a couple of weeks. The irony did not escape me. It was the countless expeditions through the untamed wilderness that had ignited my passion for understanding the creatures that called the mountains home.
“You know it was probably just a grizzly,” I murmured, my fingers unconsciously checking over the Winchester Model 70 secured in my saddle scabbard. Dad carried the scientific equipment; I carried the firepower. We both knew I was the better shot, and he’d never been too proud to admit it.
“Probably,” he agreed with a knowing chuckle.
But I could read the truth on his weathered face. This‘sighting’was nothing more than his excuse to steal one last adventure together, one last dance through the mountains that had shaped us both.
I turned back to smile at my father when Jubal’s muscles locked beneath me like a seized engine. His massive frame trembled as he snorted through flared nostrils. The sound cut through the air like a blade, and ice-cold dread crawled up my spine. The stallion’s upset radiated through his powerful body as he pivoted in tight, agitated circles. His intelligent eyes rolledwhite at the edges as he tried to pinpoint whatever alien scent had invaded his world.
“Speaking of griz,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I slid the Winchester from its scabbard, settling the cold steel across my lap.
The forest had seemed wrong all day—I’d felt it in my bones. I wheeled Jubal in a slow circle, my eyes dissecting every shadow, every play of sunlight through the canopy. There, behind my father’s position, came a flash of something that didn’t belong—a glimmer of deep purple that had no business existing in the palette of greens and browns.
Weird.
Then the world exploded.
The sound erupting from the treeline was apocalyptic—the death screams of century-old pines as something massive bulldozed through them. But it was the roar that followed that turned my blood to ice. Not the huffing challenge of a grizzly. Not the territorial bellow of an elk. This was something primordial and wrong—a sound that belonged to nightmares.
The creature that burst from the forest was my first true glimpse into a world I’d only ever imagined. Every romantic notion I’d harbored about Bigfoot—the shy, elusive guardian of the wilderness—shattered like glass against concrete. This was no gentle giant hiding from human encroachment. This was seven and a half feet of pure, predatory malevolence. Its blackish-brown fur rippled over muscles that could snap trees like twigs.
Its face was the stuff of nightmares—disturbingly human yet utterly alien, with obsidian eyes that held both intelligenceand maliciousness. When its gray lips peeled back in what might have been a grin, the elongated canines it revealed weren’t quite as pronounced as a grizzly, but promised death just the same.
The beast moved with terrifying purpose, launching itself at my father. The impact sent both horse and rider tumbling, and I watched in horror as my father’s beloved mare hit the ground with a sickening crack that echoed through my soul. Her elegant neck twisted at an impossible angle, those gentle brown eyes that had trusted us with her life now staring sightlessly.
Dad rolled to his feet, his hand already reaching for the bear spray clipped to his belt. The metallic click of my rifle’s action seemed to thunder through the forest, and the creature’s massive head swiveled toward me. Its lips curled back further, revealing more razor-sharp teeth, and then it moved—Jesus, how it moved.
The speed was inhuman, a blur of fur and muscle that repositioned itself with tactical precision, positioning my father’s body like a living shield. The intelligence behind that maneuver chilled me more than the beast’s size or strength ever could. This thing was thinking, planning, using my love for my father as a weapon against me.
The bear spray hissed as Dad triggered it, sending a concentrated stream of capsaicin directly into the creature’s face. For a heartbeat, I thought we might have a chance. Then the beast’s massive paw swept through the air, batting the canister from my father’s grip like it was swatting a fly. The sound of bones breaking—small, delicate bones in my father’s hand—cracked through the air like gunshots, followed by his groan of agony.
My rifle remained raised, but the creature’s positioning made every angle I found worthless. I would have to shoot through my father to reach anything vital. The beast knew this, its dark eyes meeting mine over Dad’s shoulder with what I swear was amusement.
“Daddy!” The word tore from my throat, raw and desperate. Beneath me I felt Jubal tremble, but the stallion held his ground.
Those massive arms encircled my father, lifting him from the ground as easily as I might lift a child. Dad’s legs kicked uselessly, his uninjured hand clawing at the fur-covered forearms that held him captive. When his eyes found mine, they were wide with terror and something else—a fierce, protective love that transcended his own fear.
