4/96: Deception Pass State Park – Field Journal, Day 23: Agent 4478

The wind has shifted, carrying the sharp scent of saltwater deep into the forest. The usual bird calls were absent this morning, replaced by a silence so thick it pressed against my ears. Even the trees seemed to lean in, listening.

I returned to the branch structure from the other day, this time determined to examine it more closely. The forest felt different here—quieter, more watchful—as if the trees themselves were waiting for me to notice something. I stepped carefully around the base, scanning for details I might have missed.

That’s when I saw it.

Just a few feet from the structure, pressed deep into the lush green moss, was a wide, muddy print. The edges were criSp, the heel sunk low, with a faint ridge running across the middle—exactly the kind of feature reported in countless eyewitness accounts. I crouched down, brushing away a stray cedar needle to see it more clearly.

It was fresh. Too fresh.

My own boot tracks from the day before were already softening, their outlines melting into the damp earth. But this impression… this looked like it had been made within the hour. The moss around it was still springing back slowly, as though it hadn’t yet adjusted to the weight that had pressed it down.

I glanced into the trees beyond the structure, suddenly aware of how still the air had become. The sense of being alone here was gone—replaced by the unsettling thought that whatever left this mark might still be close enough to see me.

As I crouched to measure it, a faint rustle came from the undergrowth. Then another. Something large was moving parallel to me, just out of sight. I froze, listening. The sound would stop when I stopped… then resume when I moved again.

I spoke softly into my recorder, marking the time and direction of the noises, my hand trembling slightly despite myself. I felt eyes on me—watching, judging, waiting.

I retreated to camp before dusk, but I swear the feeling followed me. Even now, as I write this under the dim glow of my lantern, I keep glancing toward the tree line. The darkness seems closer tonight.