Every rustle, every little crack, and swish made us take quick glances in the direction of the sound. Noises seemed louder because of our silence. The fir needles decomposing on the forest floor gave off a sharp, pungent odor. But we saw nothing out of the ordinary.

          We flinched as a dark shadow swooped low over our heads, making a beating sound in the air. My heart pounded as Jason and I ducked. We turned to find Brian flat on his stomach behind a huckleberry bush. I could only see his Converse high tops sticking out.

          Then, Jason sighed with relief and said, “Look up there, guys.”

          Lifting our eyes at a tall fir tree, Jason pointed to a crow eyeing us from a lofty branch accompanied by a loud, throaty Caw! Caw!

          Bear shuffled up to us wearing an embarrassed, red-cheeked expression, eyes pointed down, wiping fir needles from the front of his shirt. “Don’t worry, Bear. That bird almost scared the crap out of me too.” I tried to reassure him.

          After a couple minutes the trees thinned out, and the woods opened into a small clearing. Vegetation covered the ground everywhere – salal, long tufts of grass, bracken, and ferns. Moss draped the trees, hanging thick and green from their branches. Invasive English ivy wound its viney fingers up some Douglas firs, making choking circles about their trunks. And Himalaya blackberry vines with sharp, thorny fangs covered many open places with a thick tangle.

          “Be careful,” warned Jason. “It’s around here real close.” He was talking about the mysterious opening known as Pardou’s Pit. We were about one hundred feet from the giant maple, and the hole, about eight feet wide and who knows how deep, was nearly hidden by a web of undergrowth. We spotted its mouth just ahead and peered down at the foliage with a few skeletons of creatures caught in the plant cover around the opening – raccoons, possums, and parts of a larger animal, maybe a deer. We crept on our bellies to the edge, parted the tall grass and ferns, and peered into the blackness below.

          A slight odor of decay seeped into our nostrils. “Ugh, what's that weird smell?” mumbled Brian. Neither Jason or I could answer. It wasn't overpowering, just a little ripe like meat just before it spoils.

          Jason grabbed a silver dollar sized rock and dropped it into the hole. We listened, but we all shook our heads at the same time. Not a sound. The pit could have been bottomless.

          Inch by inch, the three of us pushed ourselves back from the brink and made our way toward the giant maple. Its branches like groping fingers reached outward and upward toward the light of the sky. Under the tree in an open, leaf-covered area, we sat down on a huge root that grew above the ground and gazed back at the Pit.

          “It looks the same as always . . . except,” Jason paused.

          “Except what?” I asked.

          “Except – I don’t remember that smell.” He took off his Minnesota Twins hat and wiped beads of sweat off his brow with his shirt sleeve.

          “What d’ya suppose caused it to stink like that?” asked Brian.

          “I don’t have a clue,” Jason answered, “unless something big like a bear or deer fell in and rotted.”

          The hair on my neck raised and a spike of fear pierced my stomach as a voice broke the stillness.