These are men who dared to live under the shadows of the highest peaks, and hunt their prey in the darkest of ravines. They have brought forth stories of their observations and hearings, to those with hunger of the unknown that laid beyond the safety of the fields. It was those who heard the words spoken by the wanderers of the wild, who carried on the stories so that we could some day ourselves learn of their crossings.

One such story managed to work its way down the generations, hidden in text forgotten and unnoticed until recent times. The findings of the forgotten words were brought to light when interest in a similar story of present day pulled at the wheels of curiosity. The story implies that more than recreation and water circulate along the peaceful banks of the Pemigewasset. For those who have had an experience let them relate. However, to those who have not visited the river or have had similar dealings, lend an ear and take warning. For there are rare occasions in the wild for which some dare not utter a word. Moments of time that our present society merely sets aside, and for reasons officials do not speak.

I suppose an account of these earlier dealings in history would be in order before the most recent that I know of. There are few written accounts that can be found in regards to a haunting scream or crazed howl echoing along the Pemigewasset at night. This haunting sound was first reported by the trappers and hunters who scoured these parts in search of game. It is possible that earlier colonial accounts exist or native legend, but as of yet I have not had the luck in finding one.

The men in the early to mid nineteenth century who wandered these parts, would return from their ramblings with tales of strange happenings along the Pemi. On many of their lonely nights camped along the river, they reported to have had visits of frightfully shrill howling in the night. It was told that the screams and cackles were so loud, that one would think a war party was in their very lap. In every case though, not a thing or even slightest movement could be seen. In the morning tracks that were so earnestly sought for could never be found. Other than the sounds of terror, it would seem that the incidents had never occurred. And so it was for decades of scattered stories and written tales. There were a few more stories of similar instances during the twentieth century, but not as horrifying as the accounts of the early eighteen hundreds. That is until the story that was relayed to me of an account in that beautiful and peaceful part of the wilderness.

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