Log:Silly Old Folktales

Silly Old Folktales
Participants Bronwyn, Jack	22 April, 2018 Jack and Bronwyn meet out on the preserve trails and discuss local folklore. All just tales and stories according to Jack. But a bear encounter seem to contradict him.
Location Tamarack Road - Wilderness Preserve
========-< << Tamarack Road - Wilderness Preserve >> >-========= A single public road passes through the Preserve, a pleasant twenty-minute drive (at the speed limit), all things considered, and the only road into or out of the town of Tamarack Falls. A wooden sign at the base of the steep cliff's switchback cautions against falling rocks and, too, contains symbols to indicate that cyclists and equestrians are also welcome on the trail. Thickly forested and prone to fog in low areas, the dense woods at the foot of the path are home to several protected species, managed by a private commission of local rangers. For seven miles, the road and the occasional ranger's cabin are the only proof of human life. Electricity for the town, too, passes through this area, though proof of that is more obscure, underground conduits carrying it where treefalls won't take it out. Toward the southern end, the forest thins, gradually replaced by scrub brush and grasslands where deer are often found to graze. It's an early Sunday still, the sun's struggling to go over the treetops of the trail, shadows still long and it's misty and chilly. But it promises to be a very nice spring day finally, with clear skies - not a cloud in sight. The sort of day you're likely to meet other people on the trails, although most wouldn't be out quite this early perhaps. Jack's here, riding his horse, wearing the Ranger outfit - he's working. A black german shepherd is moving with the horse-rider duo, sometimes shooting off to the side to sniff at something, but always returning. "Fuckers," Jack says, staring at some litter near the path - beer cans, plastic wrappers, signs of a fire. He slides off the horse and gets a plastic sack out, muttering about people. Wandering up the trail from the opposite direction is Bronwyn. Tall. Blonde. And dressed appropriately - hiking boots, cargo pants (lots of pockets), t-shirt under an open jacket (with lots of pockets). Hair tied back in a ponytail. Large glasses to make her look intellectual. "Hey" she smiles in greeting at seeing the ranger. "Oh...damn...messy creeps" she grumbles about the trash before squatting down to help pick it up. The dog bounces over immediately, tail wagging - it doesn't jump at her though, nor does he bark. He just seem very interested in her, sniffing and hoping for cuddles. "Goblin, give her some room," Jack says to the dog, shooting Bronwyn an appreciative and thankful glance; he sets the sack down on the ground for them both to throw trash into, folding it down so it's easier for them. "Best time of day for a hike," he notes, glancing at her outfit habitually. He knows all too well some people just come out here not properly prepared. "I'm Jack Fry, nice to meet you." He pulls a glove off and offers a hand, pausing in the clean-up. "He's okay...or she is..." Bronwyn smiles about the dog, ruffling its head before going back to trash pick up. "Goblin? Cute name for a dog. A lot of curious names for pets in this town" she smiles. As he introduces herself, she wipes her hand before taking his. "Doctor Bronwyn Gallagher, nice to meet you. Any time of day is good for a hike. Clears the mind. And it's...reasonably...warm. Fot Vermont." Goblin is very happy he gets some headruffles and then he's "helping" with the trash clean up by grabbing a piece of plastic and tossing it around. Jack lets him be, he's not doing any more harm after all. Handshake is firm and warm from a calloused hand. Jack's eyebrow shoots up at her introduction, curious. "Doctor?" he queries, bending down to pick up some cans, tossing them into the sack. "It's going to be a nice day today, according to the forecast. Still freezing during the nights though so be careful, it's very slippery here and there." "I'll try and be home by nightfall. I hired a cabin on the edge of the woods." Bronwyn takes out her phone to glance at the time. "Left before dawn so another couple of hours and I'll turn back to make sure I get there in time.' She stuffs her phone away in one of the pockets. "Don't get too excited. Not a medical doctor. I'm a doctor of anthropology. How long have you been a ranger?" "Great. You obviously know what you're doing. Sorry - I just need to make sure," Jack says, but he doesn't seem that apologetic. It's just part of his job to make sure people are safe out here. Less of a hassle later. "Anthropology - maybe that /does/ make me excited," he says with a wry joke, lips twisting up in the corners. He walks around the area, looking to see if there's some more litter, but they seem to have found it all. "Not very long, in fact. Just a few months - I just came back to the area." The Frys are a local family, so she might know about them. Bronwyn is far from local. "I only got here myself a few weeks back" she explains, standing again and giving the dog another pat. "Interesting area. Lots of folk tales that I want to learn about. Meet the people. Study them. Which must sound terrible to you. It's not judgemental in any way, I promise. Anthropology still make you excited?" She wipes off her hands once more. "Get many people on the trail?" In truth, Jack is tensing up a bit. Like many locals, he's not too keen on talking about the local stories and legends to outsiders. "It's just silly old folk tales," he says, eyeing her as he ties toe sack together and hangs it off the saddle for now, patting the horse. The horse has just patiently waited by the path, not even tied to a tree or anything. Goblin's ears perk and he looks at Jack, then buffs his nose against Bronwyn's hand, apparently not quite as suspicious. "There's quite a few - as you can see, some just don't know how to behave themselves." He gestures at the sack with litter. "Spring's here, so it'll be busy soon though. I think quite a few cabins are booked up." He pauses, adding: "Be careful with how you ask around. Some people here are just very... suspicious of strangers with questions." "I've noticed...and I think I've just met another one" Bronwyn replies with a smile. "There was one woman I was talking with who even promised to show me what sounded like a secret society or something like that. She was going to get back to me. Make sure it was okay. Haven't heard back from her yet." A little laugh. "But that could also have been her way of dumping me. That happens a lot here too. Sorry, you don't need to listen to my troubles." "Hey, Goblin" Bronwyn smiles, crouching down to give him another ruffle. "Nice to meet you. I think I upset Jack. Do you think you can get him to forgive me so we could be friends one day. I could do with some friends. What do you say, Goblin?" "Any secret society that talked to outsiders wouldn't be so secret would it?" Jack says, cracking a cynical grin. He doesn't deny it outright though - maybe he doesn't know, or he doesn't want to lie? He tips his hat back a bit so his face is more illuminated, weathered and tanned; he's outside a lot. Goblin wags his tail crazily and certainly seem to think Bronwyn is a friend, licking her hand. "He certainly is your friend, though admittedly he's friends with anyone who pets him. But I'll trust his judgement this time." He takes out a thermos and some tin mugs from his saddlepack. "Coffee?" he offers, raising eyebrows. "That's the good and bad about pets; they'll be friends with anyone" Bronwyn sighs before giving Goblin another pet and then standing. "Sure, coffee sounds great. Thanks. You'd be surprised about secret societies. Some of them are vast...but people don't know about them. It depends how serious the members are. Something that takes in a whole town of closely related and dependent people...could happen. Something government based that includes thousands of people...will leak like a sieve. That's why I know there's no Area 51 aliens. Employment is a pretty low reason to keep a secret. But family...community...maybe that is happening here." She seems dead serious before smiling warmly. "Or not." Pouring up for them both, thermos put back in the pack, Jack holds a mug out. Black strong coffee, no milk, no sugar. The simple style. He sips it, squinting at her as the sun comes in from her back now, having crested the horizon enough to make the mist glimmer like cold amongst the trees. It's a beautful morning. Goblin finds a stick and starts tearing it apart, lying down on the trail. "Family and community? Definitely. This place hasn't really changed much in two hundred years. Still the same families around. Little things that happened have mutated and become legends, told over and over. I can see how it'd be interesting, for a doctor of anthropology," he muses, studying her with intent scrutiny now. Grey-blue eyes just seem to see a bit /too/ much, almost invasive. "Mostly, I think people don't enjoy having old skeletons and dirt dug up. But some would be happy to tell you folk-tales and legends, so I'm sure you can find it." "Folk-tales and legends is all I'm interested in" Bronwyn smiles as she take the mug and blows over it. "Don't care about gossip...but...some of those stories could have arisen from such gossip. They explain things for the community. Act as warnings. Instructions on how to live. They all come from somewhere." A sip of her coffee. "Oh...strong and black...like I like my men." She laughs, "I'm joking. I should say 'dark and bitter', like me relationships." "What about you, Mister Fry? Any legends you want to tell me about?" Bronwyn asks with a smile. The horse snorts and tosses his head a bit, as Goblin's weaving underneath the larger animal, as if to say 'Watch where you're going, tiny one.' Goblin just dances away and seem to be laughing - the dog goes to browse around in the nearby forest, sniffing at everything. Happy dog. The Ranger considers her request thoughtfully. "I'll tell you a story from my family," he says. "I'm doubtful about its truth, but I'm sure it was something that grew into legend - like all those folktales." He sits down on a boulder, settling in with his coffee. "My great great grandmother Liza Fry - she was married in from the Millers I think, but I'm not sure - was out picking berries on an early autumn evening. The sun was low. She heard a sound, and turned - and came face to face with a gigantic bear, whom was also out picking berries, fattening up before going to sleep for winter. Now, Liza was a tough woman, but she quaked in her boots when she sternly and firmly told the bear 'This is my berry patch, you go find your own.' The bear raised up and seemed to get angry, as if wanting to attack her - but instead, it rushed past her and pummeled into a mountain lion that had snuck up /behind her/." He looks at Bronwyn to see her reaction. "Liza whirled around and ran away, but when they went back to look later, the tracks were there to be seen. After that, she was largely considered to be protected by the bears, and there were all sorts of stories." Bronwyn is quite surprised by the twist as she sips on her coffee. "Wow, that's...quite a story. Why don't you think it could be true? Do you have bears and mountain lions around here? You'd know" she laughs. Another sip of her drink. "So that was your family? Interesting. Keeping it in the family though you mentioned another family. Millers? Do they have this tale as well? With the same person? You'd think they'd be as proud of her as you are. Thank you for that, it was very helpful. And no gossip or skeletons were unearthed. How far to the ranger station?" "Plenty of bears, no mountain lions. Or Catamounts as they used to be called. They've been extinct in the area since the late 1800s." So whenever this story happened, it was before that, obviously. Jack stares into the forest, as if half sad the mountain lions are all gone. "I couldn't tell, about the Millers? Maybe. But Liza was part of the Fry family from the age of 18 when she married Jonas Fry," he explains, giving her a small smile. "You got me curious now, I might look into it myself." He stands up, shaking out the last drops of the coffee onto the ground. "About half an hour?" he says, glancing up and down the trail. "Is that crawling speed or horseback?" Bronwyn laughs about the thirty minute distance. She finishes off her own coffee and shakes out the last drops before handing back the mug. "If I get hurt, I'd like to know if I should try a brave wander through the woods or just call you on my phone" she smiles sweetly. "Do you live out here too? Doesn't get lonely? There must be more of you I suppose. You can't be doing all of this by yourself." "There's quite a few of us - it's just such a huge area, we're rather spread out." Jack gestures down towards the south of where they are. "My house - cabin - is just down there, by the main road. So I patrol these areas more than others." Makes sense he lives near his 'work'. At the mention of the phone, he cracks a wry grin and takes his cell out. "Gimme your number - it's good to have if you wander around out here. I'm usually not that far away." Maybe he's sneakily trying to get her number, but she's the one who mentioned it first. "I can walk with you to the station?" He's struck by an idea. "Want to ride?" "Makes sense to leave the ranger your number" Bronwyn shrugs, getting out her phone and transferring it over. "So if I'm not home by ten, you can give me a call to make sure I'm still alive. If a bear answers, send the marines." She thinks about the offer of a ride down to the station. "Okay, sounds like it could be fun. I wouldn't mind having a look round the station before wandering off again. Thanks. The other rangers working today?" "I know most bears around here - I'll talk them out of it, to let you go," Jack jokes back at her, grin widening at her quip. He saves her number and puts the phone away. "It's just a little ranger cabin, not really a station," Jack explains, pulling his horse over. "Still now Troll," he says soothingly to the horse, who seem to be quite docile and calm. "But it's open, so just go in and use the stove if you need, or get some maps and pamphlets." Out here, a locked door isn't much of an option - especially not on the ranger cabin. "Nah, only me out here today." He gestures for the horse. "Need a boost up?" "I've ridden before, thanks" Bronwyn replies to the offer of a boost, and indeed she clambers up onto the house. "Troll? Goblin and Troll? Hmm...interesting. There are so many old legends in this town - /really/ old - that reference European mythology rather than Native American. From times when you wouldn't even think any Europeans were here. It's very interestng...I promise it is" she laughs before nodding down the trail. "Lead the way...are you riding too?" Jack looks up at her when she's sat up on the horse, squinting. "I liked fairytales as a kid," he admits. "And all the old families come from Europe - they brought the stories along." The horse himself seem to be a very nice sort of Troll, even if he dances a few steps when she takes the reins, before settling down, getting used to the new person on his back. Goblin is near Jack now, also staring up at the woman with oddly intelligent eyes. "I'll walk - we don't know each other that well, yet, " the ranger finally settles on, flashing her a near rakish grin, perhaps thinking that riding behind her would be a bit too intimate. So he starts up the path the way he came with long, confident and easy strides - he opens his coat up, as it's warming up quite a lot. A badge gleams on his belt - he's a police officer too. There's a rifle attached to his pack as well, not that this is especially odd, any ranger would have one. A side-arm on his belt, the typical Glock 22. Bronwyn leads the horse in the direction that Jack leads. "Oh I know that European settlers came here. Of course they did. But how do you explain the stories of western folklore /before/ that settlement? Why would the native Americans replace their stories with those of people they may have only met briefly in trade? If at all. And even those stories that came with the settlers. They haven't changed at all. Not after all these centuries. All the areas around here, the stories have changed to become more American. Here they are steadfast. It's almost like this is a hidden valley from the world." She notices the badge and smiles wryly. "You have to be the cop too? Hey, do you know why the CAT cafe has a police car outside almost permanently? Is CB really that dangerous?" Jack shoots her a surprised look at that, eyebrows going up. "I don't have an explanation for that." Maybe he honestly has no clue, he looks a bit puzzled about this too. But then he looks away and has a frown on his face, as if maybe, after all, he has an idea but doesn't want to talk about it. "As for this being a hidden valley... it /is/ a hidden valley. Time stands still here. Stubborn people." He shakes his head, grinning at her again. "I'm a cop too, yeah - but I don't generally get involved in the city police work. As for CB - I can't tell." Can't, or won't? Maybe both. "I don't think it's unsafe to go there for a coffee though." He crouches down briefly to look at some tracks along the side of the path. "Bear," he notes with a frown. "Few days old though. They're waking up, so try to make noise when you're out hiking. So you don't startle one." "CB is a counter culture guy in the true sense. Or at least the 1960s sense, but I don't think he's dangerous. The muffins are quite nice there. Do you know him?" Bronwyn replies with a shrug. "Time certainly has stood still at a folk level. So there are city cops and rural cops?" She seems quite content and comfortable on the horse though she does point out, "I'm more used to camel riding." "I know him," Jack confirms, but he's looking around more warily as the two move up the trail. Goblin's more alert too, walking with head high and sniffs a lot along the trail, probably also realising bears are around. "Around here, the lines are a bit blurred on the police work, as there just ain't that many of us. But yeah - I'm tending the parks and the wildlife. I don't bust down a door in the city, except when it involves something up here generally. Or if I'm asked to assist." His turn to ask curious questions. "Camel riding? You've been around then. Work related, or tourism?" Bronwyn is getting a little concerned about the wariness of ranger and animals. "I assure you, I will be more startled by a bear than it will be by me. Camel riding was for work. I don't get to be a tourist much." A pause. "Is everything okay, Jack?" Troll doesn't seem to be too concerned but it could just be a well-trained horse. The moment she's uttered that question, Troll tosses his head and turns very skittish; he can smell it. Something nearby. But it /is/ a well-trained horse so he stays on the path with ears flat and eyes alarmed. Goblin starts growling towards the side of the path, where dense forest obscure the view, big boulders giving plenty of hiding for animals. "No," Jack says, tensed up. He starts for the horse, to grab the rifle - but before he has a chance, there's a loud rustle in the bushes and a bear charges out on the path, straight for the quartett of animals and humans. It's one of the regular black bears around, not the biggest - a younger one - but it's apparently upset about the intrusion, or it's hungry from having slept all winter, still trying to fatten up. Since everyone else is getting apprehensive, Bronwyn can't help it. Sure, it's not like a giant crocodile is about to burst out but what does, she quickly realises is just as bad. She tries to keep Troll calm and near the others when the bear roars and charges towards them. Bronwyn doesn't have a gun or anything like it so she prepares to kick her heels into Troll's side if she needs to. There's just a few seconds to react - Jack won't have time to get the rifle, so he abandons the thought in a split second and instead turns to face the bear full on, rising up to his full height with feet firmly planted on the muddy path. He raises his hand with palm up towards the charging, mad bear, like he thinks he can just stop it like that. "Stop." Jack's command is clear, but not loud. It /buzzes/ with an odd power though - maybe she can even feel it. His face is set in determination, eyes are icey blue and calm as he doesn't move back; but his body betrays him, he's ready to spring, to dodge out of the bear's way, so he's perhaps taking a gamble. Maybe the bear just gets so surprised about this it obeys out of pure puzzlement; it grinds to a halt a few inches from Jack's hand, standing on all fours. Goblin growls, ready to pounce, but he halts as well, waiting. Troll? He's shifting back nervously - he's got the right idea here and is ready to bolt if needed. Bronwyn expects Jack to be a bloody pulp on the ground with that crazy performance but...it works. She stares, not sure what she is seeing...and it seems Troll isn't very sure either. The blonde dares not speak in case it breaks the magic. Instead she watches, taking it all in. Sweat trickles down Jack's temple; he breathes out air slowly, staring the bear in the eyes. The bear glares back, wild and angry for a few more seconds before it takes a few steps back away from the ranger. "Go back to the forest." Jack's command is firm and emphasised with a gesture of his hand, a shooing one. Oddly, the bear makes a grunting sound, sniffs the air for a second, then turns and trundles off in a trott, all calm and content by the looks of it, no longer angry at anyone or bothering with horse, dog or humans. It'll go find something else to eat. It's all over in less than thirty seconds - Jack stands still for a long moment, then takes a deep breath, wiping sweat off his brow, pushing the hat back. Goblin growls a little, but then moves to Jack's side, tail wagging carefully. "No. Fucking. Way" Bronwyn mutters under her breath as she watches a live action reenactment of 'Crocodile Dundee'. "That did not just happen. How?" That last question loud enough for Jack to hear. "How did you do that?" She looks to the woods, expecting the bear to ask the same question and come charging back to finish him off. Nothing. The bushes over there are moving as the bear makes a path, but it's away from them - and soon it's gone entirely. The area is eerily quiet now, no birds singing; there's a faint sound from a distance of a car on the main road, that's all. Jack shakes himself out of whatever state he was in, rubbing his eyes with thumb and fingers, before turning tired eyes on the doctor. "Bears aren't very smart," he tries. "He just figured I was more trouble than it was worth." He moves to the horse now, and nudges her leg. "/Now/ I am riding - cause it might have a change of heart." So, he'll get up behind her, making soothing sounds to Troll who is still quite skitterish. "No, that was a /very/ smart bear" Bronwyn counters, "It understood every word you said. I don't know whether to call you Bear Dundee or Doctor Dolittle. Bear Dolittle? Because it certainly did." A nod to his desire to ride, offering her hand to help him up onto Troll. "I think my walk in the country has also been cut short. Are you okay?" "Well, what do you /think/ happened?" Jack says - he's learned that people rationalise things quite fine on their own, so no need to make shit up. He reaches around her for the reins and will be uncomfortably close for the rest of the ride, but he's in a hury; he digs heels into Troll's side and they go off in a gallop. Thankfully the trail is made for riding on, so it won't be an issue. Goblin runs alongside like a constant guardian. He's turning the horse around too - no point going to the cabin. "Taking you back to your cabin," he explains. "No point going up further." "You talked down a bear" Bronwyn states about what happened. She's a scientist. She saw what she saw. It will take some time before she tries to say the bear was bored. A nod to the information she is going home so she enjoys the ride; replaying what she saw over and over in her head until back to the cabin. "That's for the ride, Bear Dundee" she smiles as she dismounts. "Maybe I'll see you around?" Jack just makes a grunt into her ear, and doesn't add anything. Not a lot he can say and he's not a terribly good liar anyway. "Keep it to yourself, please. People won't believe you, anyway." So, least he'd rather she don't talk about it - although, if she checks it up, there's /already/ plenty of rumors about his animal whispering. At the cabin, he'll help her down from the horse and them mount up again, not lingering. "I'm sure we will." He tips his hat at her and gallops off down the trail, heading in the direction he lives.