The Cessna 172 drifted lazily over the peaks of the Olympic Mountains. Occasional updrafts would buffet the aircraft, but the aircraft was designed to play in this environment, and would gently bounce and sway only to return to its original course. It had taken three years for Steve to pull the money together to finally purchase the aircraft, and every time it left the ground his heart would soar with his new found freedom. His first few solo flights had been extremely conservative, but lately, he had taken a liking to skimming the crest of the various peaks, some still coated with permanent glaciers. As the aircraft would climb away from each dive, he would roll the aircraft slightly to get a glimpse of the wilderness below him. Although buffeted by rain and cold, the Olympics were a perfect playground for the adventurer - with parks, hiking trails, and many unexplored areas in which to play. Rumors told of the Sasquatch, a furry oversized ape that hid among the majestic firs in the region but they were merely stories often told around campfires amidst wide-eyed youth. The scientific communities merely scoffed at the thought of a Neanderthal wandering somewhere below; and Steve had agreed with them. Although he was a distinguished anthropologist, his philosophy had always been to "believe only when seen."
He rolled the aircraft for another pass over one of the snow-dusted peaks, when he heard the sickening sounds of the engine icing. He quickly flipped the heater switches in the cockpit, but before they could respond, the once graceful bird began a gradual, yet pronounced descent into the wilderness below. Steve barely had time to position the nose into the wind as the belly came in contact with the first limbs from the towering firs. One of the wing supports caught on a larger trunk, and the aircraft spun unmercifully, throwing its startled pilot through the unlatched door before careening into another pine and disappearing into the needle-matted forest floor below. The sounds of impact were sickening to Steve as he clung desperately to the first tree he had ever become intimate with. His chest felt smashed by the impact, but he continued his bear hug the trunk to give his head time to clear, and plan his next move. He looked down, through the branches and saw a figure looking at him - he couldn't be sure, but he thought it could be a woman. He called out, but his voice cracked as the pain in his chest squeezed the wind from him. Through his clouded vision he looked down again to see that his silent witness had vanished.
The bough supporting him suddenly snapped, sending him tail-first into the foliage below. Mercifully, he landed on a gentle slope; saving his back, and rolling him into a decayed tree trunk. He just lay there, panting from the exertion of the fall. After a few moments, he eased himself into a sitting position, and ran a body check - bruised ribs, a sprained ankle, and the shit scared out of him, but nothing broken. He was extremely fortunate, and slumped back to regain his breath and thank his creator for the life he had. When he felt a little stronger, he eased himself up, and gingerly limped a few paces over to a small-uprooted tree, where he fashioned a walking stick using his trusty pocketknife. Knowing the elements could quickly put a man down, he gathered his slightly torn flight jacket around himself, and set out to gather some firewood and shelter. He found shelter beneath a fallen tree. It took most all the fluid in his lighter to start the matted fir needles, but gratefully, a tiny flame flickered and took hold, promising some warmth and security for the night ahead. There was enough water gathered in pools nearby that he could use to quench his thirst. With mornings' light he vowed to head for the sounds of a river somewhere below - to follow it to what he hoped would be civilization. For tonight, he would rest; and with one final excursion to collect firewood, he returned to collapse by the warmth he had created.
Steve was unaffected by the sounds about him; he was too exhausted to even be scared. As he drifted off into a fitful slumber, he was vaguely aware of the footfalls around him. Slowly they lifted his form onto the hastily made stretcher, and moved swiftly through the night like invisible spirits. Knowing the forest better than their own bodies, they gracefully moved through the branches without the need for any light, fearful that it would betray their presence. Fully unaware of his journey, Steve continued sleeping fitfully, unshaken by the female forms laboring to insure his safe passage. They brought him into the main cavern; a cave of roughly 2000 square foot, meticulously carved from rock complete with alcoves and a fire pit in the center. Tonight he would sleep here on a hastily made bed of pine boughs. One by one, they trickled into the surrounding alcoves, murmuring to themselves in subdued yet enthusiastic tones. The campfire Steve had worked so hard to create was now a faint plume of smoke and embers, mercifully extinguished by the moisture from the nights encroaching mist. Except for the occasional rustle of one of the nocturnal creatures, the forest became a sleeping wilderness.
He awoke with a start; the stench compelled him to grasp his nose in disgust. In front of him, a seven foot, hairy biped glared at him with dark eyes. It had a raised forehead, high cheekbones, long fingers and the stance of a primate. Steve had encountered his first Sasquatch. Still tender in his ribs, he slowly raised up onto his elbow for a closer look at the creature; which immediately bared its uneven teeth and growled in response. Resigned only to observe, Steve eased back down on the mat and studied the anatomical structure of the beast, making mental notes he hoped to someday publish. After a brief calm, a stately yet decidedly feminine voice exclaimed:
"Kay ayunda Tonda; chaa!"
Startled, Steve turned towards the voice to find himself confronted by several stone-sharpened spear points aimed directly at his throat. The beast grumbled from deep within its throat, then shuffled away to disappear beyond the cave entrance; the flies buzzing around his enlarged genitals leaving with him. He gulped and froze; furiously trying to analyze the words he just heard in an effort to speak to his captors. His eyes met theirs, and his mouth dropped open. Covered with animal furs, probably bear skins, were some of the most beautiful female faces he had ever seen. Their complexions were white as snow, their wide eyes dark as night, and their high cheekbones and straight black hair had definitive Asian origins. Their stance was as rigid as the fir that spun his aircraft about, and there was no hesitation in their movements. He could feel his excitement began to rise from within - this could be an, as yet, undiscovered tribe! Then from above, her voiced boomed again:
"Abooha, chaa!"
The girls took a few paces back, then dropped to their haunches using their spears to keep their bodies still and rigid.
"You are a human male?" The voiced questioned with authority.
"Yes, and I'm intrigued . . ."