🌲 The Secret Treaty of the Forest People

My name is Ethan Scott. For twelve years, I was a methodical trail inspector for the US Forest Service in the Pacific Northwest. I dealt with facts: measurements, erosion reports, and the occasional black bear. Nothing mystical. That changed in June 1991.

The maintenance crew on the Lewis River Trail System refused to work, claiming the area was “wrong.” My supervisor, Bill Henderson, sent me to investigate. I found massive, bizarre damage: an 80-foot Douglas fir pushed over, its root ball ripped from the earth, and an enormous, long-since-decomposed cedar stump torn from the ground and moved twenty feet. The damage was inexplicable by natural or mechanical means.

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🤫 The Native Elder’s Warning

While documenting the massive destruction, I was confronted by an elderly Native American man who emerged silently from the trees. He introduced himself as Thomas White Crow.

“You should not be here,” Thomas stated, his voice measured and deep. “The boundaries that matter here are older, much older.”

He didn’t speak of bears or cougars. He spoke of “The Forest People,” or Sasquatch. He pointed to the destruction: “Every tree pushed down, every stump torn from the earth… they mark the boundary. They are telling you to stay away.”

Thomas revealed the stunning truth: His tribe had an understanding with them for generations. They offered salmon and venison; the Forest People left their lands in peace. This was an ancient treaty of respect.

My rational mind rebelled, but I couldn’t ignore the impossible evidence. Thomas warned me that the Forest People were being forced out of their deeper territories by “something worse” and were now guarding their boundaries more aggressively.

“If you hear the wood knocks—three strikes evenly spaced—you turn around immediately and leave,” he instructed, handing me a small pouch of tobacco and sage as a sign of respect.

I agreed to stop crossing the line, but I had to file a report. “I’ll tell him the trail has significant damage from an unknown source,” I said.

Thomas smiled, the first genuine warmth I’d seen. “You are learning. Some truths must be protected with careful words.”

🤝 The Call for Help

That evening, I drove to Thomas’s home. His walls were covered with annotated topographic maps of the National Forest, marked with “red lines” for boundaries and “green squares” for the Sasquatch’s traditional territories. He revealed the tragic reason for the current aggression: destruction sites in the high country, where the earth was torn up, and trees were snapped off, not by logging, but by explosions.

“The matriarch will meet us at this location,” Thomas said, pointing to a blue circle on the map. “Tomorrow at dawn, if we perform the proper calling ceremony tonight.”

At midnight, we stood at the boundary marker. Thomas sprinkled tobacco and began to drum and sing in his people’s language. The sound was haunting, ancient.

After ten minutes of drumming, a response came from deep in the forest: A series of low, melodic vocalizations that answered Thomas’s song. They accepted the meeting.

🗻 The Canyon Revelation

The next morning, Thomas and I met the three figures in a remote meadow, including the massive, grey-haired Matriarch. We offered the frozen salmon.

The Matriarch accepted the offering, then gestured for us to follow. She led us to a small canyon where a stream tumbled over rocks. There, carved into the canyon wall, was a massive crater—the work of explosive charges.

I recognized the debris: Cascade Geological Survey equipment, used for seismic testing. They were illegally surveying for mineral deposits in protected wilderness.

Thomas explained that the explosions had been terrifying the Forest People, driving them out, and had crushed two of their young under falling rock.

The Matriarch drew in the dirt—circles for the explosions, crossed-out stick figures for the dead—and then pointed at me, then at the destruction. She was asking for an explanation and a solution.

“We have to stop this,” I told Thomas. “I’ll use my position to report unauthorized activity. I won’t mention them. The environmental damage alone is enough.”

I looked at the Matriarch. I promised her no more explosions. She reached out and gently touched my shoulder—a moment of profound trust. I had become part of the ancient treaty: a modern guardian of an ancient secret. The survival of the Forest People now rested on my ability to fight the corporate giants in the political and legal world.