My name is Eli, and I'll never forget the first night in those Utah woods.

The trees were so tall they blocked out most of the sky. The only light came from the campfire,

crackling softly as it pushed back the cold night air. I had just started working with this

logging crew, and even though I didn't

know anyone very well, I could tell right away that something felt wrong out here. Isaac, the foreman,

was an older guy, maybe in his 50s, with a grizzled beard and sharp eyes. He was the type of man

who didn't scare easily, but tonight he seemed off.

The other guys in the crew, Matt, Tyler, and Sam, were laughing and joking like everything

was fine, but Isaac wasn't joining in. Instead, he kept staring into the trees, his face tense.

The woods were thick and dark, and there was something about the silence that made the hairs

on the back of my neck stand up.

No birds, no animals, just the fire and the low murmur of the guys talking.

After a while, Isaac spoke up.

You ever hear of a skin walker?

His voice was gravelly, like he didn't even want to ask the question.

The laughter around the fire died down quickly. The other guys glanced at each other nervously,

but no one said a word. I didn't know what a skinwalker was, but I could tell from their faces it wasn't something

good.

Isaac leaned forward, the flames reflecting in his eyes.

These woods, they're old, older than you can imagine.

People say there are things out here, things that shouldn't be.

I saw one once, when I was a kid, not far from here. He paused,

...