Moving on down the road, Allistor had driven maybe thirty miles from the Outpost when they came across a direction sign with an arrow pointing to a ranger station.  Allistor followed the gravel drive up into the woods and found a log cabin with two ranger’s trucks.   The trucks were full-sized Suburbans, both painted forest green.  Each had a winch on the front and heavy duty tires that would allow the vehicles to go off-road to an extent. Allistor was tempted to trade in his pickup.  There was a windmill tower sticking up behind the cabin, squeaking slightly as it spun.

The door of the cabin was open, and Allistor took it as a bad sign.  Equipping his shotgun, he approached the door slowly, trying to see inside before he got too close.  But the sun was too low in the sky, and the shadows of the surrounding trees left the cabin dark inside.

Taking a deep breath, Allistor pushed the door open with the barrel of this shotgun, then stepped to the side in case anything charged out.  After hearing no sounds of any kind for twenty seconds, he stepped back in front of the door and then inside.   He kept his weapon in front of him as his eyes adjusted to the lower light.

The main room of the cabin was a combination office and kitchen.  There were two desks, an extra chair next to each, a sofa, and a dining table with benches.   The kitchen was just a basic wood stove, sink, and several cabinets with a short counter space on either side of the sink. One was taken up by a small microwave. A big coffeepot sat atop the stove, a shelf on the wall above it holding half a dozen mugs.

One of two doors leading off that room led to a full bath.   The other led to a large room with a fireplace, two sofas and some chairs, a larger table, and a giant bearskin rug.  The grizzly it came from must have been ten feet tall.

Attached to that room were two bedrooms, and a bunk room with three sets of bunk beds.  Allistor cleared each room as he went through the house, and an itch started to work at his subconscious.  When he finished his search and stood staring at the rug, he realized what it was.

No blood stains, or signs of a battle of any kind.  With two trucks out front, there should have been at least two rangers here.  If they were still alive, where were they?  He doubted they would have left the front door open if they’d gone out hunting.

Remembering the windmill, he tried the nearest light switch.  Two table lamps on either end of a sofa turned on.   Allistor turned them off again and headed for the door.  He made a circuit of the clearing around the cabin, looking for blood or obvious tracks.  Finding nothing, he returned to the pickup.  Fuzzy was snoring inside, atop his nest of many blankets.