A group of hikers set off into the picturesque woods of the Lake District for a weekend getaway. They pitched their tents, lit a campfire, and spent the evening laughing, singing, and soaking in the peaceful surroundings. Everything was perfectuntil someone noticed that one of them, a thirty-five-year-old bloke named James Whitmore, had gone missing.
At first, no one thought much of it. They assumed hed wandered off to snap a photo of something scenic and would be back any minute. But as time passed, worry began to creep in.
Meanwhile, James was deep in the forest, camera in hand. Hed spotted an unusual wildflower by the path and stopped to take a few shots. When he looked up, his stomach droppedthe trail was gone. Just thick undergrowth in every direction.
Hello?! he shouted. Over here!
Silence. He stumbled forward, hoping to hear voices or spot smoke from the campfire, but with every step, he only got more turned around. His water ran out quickly, and he had no food. The woods grew darker, the air colder, and fear gnawed at him.
Hours passedhe yelled until his voice was hoarse, but no one answered. Then, in the quiet, a strange sound cut througha raspy, laboured noise. James froze, pulse racing. He braced himself for a badger or fox, but instead, a stag emerged from the undergrowth.
The poor creature was in rough shapea thick rope was wound tight around its neck and body, cutting into its fur. The stag thrashed, wheezing, barely able to breathe.
Bloody hell James murmured, stepping closer. Easy, mate. Im not here to hurt you.
He moved slowly, hands outstretched. The stag snorted, shifting nervously, but didnt boltas if it sensed James meant to help.
Pulling out his pocket knife, James muttered under his breath as he sawed at the stubborn rope. The stag flinched with each cut but gradually stilled. Finally, the rope slithered to the ground. The stag drew a deep, shuddering breath and locked eyes with him.
There youre free, James said, stepping back.
Then something utterly surreal happenedsomething that left James rooted to the spot, stunned.
The stag let out a long, almost musical call. Then it turned and walked deeper into the woods, pausing to glance backlike it was waiting for him to follow.
James hesitated, but something in his gut told him to trust it. He trailed after the animal.
For half an hour, they weaved through dense thickets. James legs ached, but he kept going. Thenflickering light ahead. His breath caught. The campfire.
He stumbled into the clearing where his mates sat, frantic with worry. James spun around to thank the stagbut it was already gone. Just the faintest rustle of leaves in the distance, as though the forest had swallowed it whole.
