chapter 1

Hans and Greg had been best friends since they were very young. In their late teens, they were both very active and enjoyed going on marvelous adventures in the great outdoors. They both were quite thin and wiry, no doubt the result of the long hiking trips they enjoyed along with the limited rations they carried with them.

Following their graduation from high school, Hans and Greg decided to take a gap year and go off on an extended backpacking trip in the wilderness. Cell service would be spotty and unreliable as they traversed deeper and deeper into the forests and mountains, but Hans and Greg were both very experienced at wilderness survival, so this did not cause them too much concern. They crammed a huge amount of supplies into their large backpacks and, after saying their goodbyes to friends and family, set out into the wilderness.

Only a few days into their adventure, and the trail they were following petered into nothing, and for the first time, the boys were navigating on their own, guided mostly by topographical maps, a compass, and the stars above them. There was a tiny village about 30 miles away; otherwise, the boys were completely isolated from humanity, surrounded by the beauty of pristine wilderness.

Early that morning they had begun their gradual descent down into a deep valley, thickly forested with deciduous growth. Greg could not quite put it into words, but something about the lighting and the dense, overpowering fragrance of the springtime blooms made the forest seem particularly mysterious that morning, and he could not shake a strange feeling that something hidden and powerful was at the bottom of the valley.

(A few hours later)

“Up ahead, what do you think that is?” Hans asked Greg.

Greg shook his head, “It must be a hunter’s cabin, except it seems even too big for that!”

Interested, the boys made a quick march towards the structure. In the middle of a clearing was a beautiful single-story cottage. Old handmade bricks on the outside twinkled with an iridescence and the doors and windows were covered in a yellow paint, that despite its cracked and peeling nature, seemed to add a comforting warm glow into the clearing. The windows were faded and bubbly, not completely opaque, but too foggy to see anything inside.

“Maybe a vacation cottage from last century?” Hans suggested, although there was a timeless aura about the building that made it seem like it would have fit just as well in the last millennium.

Hans and Greg approached the door and knocked though naturally no one answered. Hans pushed on the door, but it appeared to be jammed shut.

“Well, anyway, I’m getting pretty hungry, so how about we take a nice long lunch break here?” said Greg, sitting down near the entrance to the cottage.

“That sounds great, I’m absolutely famished!” agreed Hans, sitting down beside his best friend and leaning against the front door of the little cottage.

No sooner had Hans sat down, then the door suddenly gave way with an ominous creak of the hinges. With a cry of surprise, Hans and Greg stood up and peered cautiously into the little entryway.

The inside of the house looked as ancient as its exterior, but an inviting odor wafted over the threshold that reminded Greg faintly of his grandmother’s house when she was baking bread.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Hans called out into the house, but there was no answer from within.

“Do you think we should go inside?” asked Greg cautiously, but Hans was already leading the way through the entrance hall and into the main living area beyond, and Greg hastily followed behind.