An Autumn evening a while back, the sun has already sunk below the horizon, but its light has yet to fade.
Walking through the trees a ruckus emanates from a wooded slope. Someone is yelling semi football chants, bellowing and calling out every minute or so.
Intrigued as to who is causing such an uncouth disturbance, we three change our course and head up the hill.
The dim light of pre-night settles on the forest as we eventually encounter the source of the disturbance. Ahead of us on the path, two guys lounge on a large fallen tree, cigarette smoke wreathed about their heads, their features lost in the shadowy light.
The two mutts ranging in front of me see the men long before they see us, and the hounds pause to assess the situation. A quiet word from one guy to another -
"It's a dog...."
"... and not a little one either. Not like the..." too quiet to hear.
"There's another one."
The mutts approach with me in tow. As we pass the guys, one asks in a rough Estuary accent whether I know where a road is. I do, it's way over the other side of the forest. Ah says the guy, someone we know is coming from there, we are trying to get his attention to let him know where we are. We're trying to meet up with him - and we don't know these woods.
Odd I think, to meet at night in a woods you don't know, but then perhaps the third person is a native and suggested the location.
I tell them where the guy will likely be approaching from then and leave them to it.
As we roam through the woods at times we can hear the men calling, and at times their voices are lost to the trees and the contours of the land.
Night time sets in proper and someone deep in the undergrowth says Where are you ? Stopping, I listen and give a tentative hello.
No reply.
The undergrowth rustles.
I say hello again - but again there is no reply. Shrugging my shoulders at the strange and unsocial lurker we continue our walk.
A half hour later we pass a spot not far from the original unseen lurker, and again a voice calls out from the bushes Where have you been.
I stop again and ask if the person is looking for two friends. If so they are on the other side of the valley.
No reply.
Hello ? Hello ? There is someone there, but for their own reasons they are hiding.
The undergrowth rustles and the mutts take up flanking positions, the boy giving the bushes a low growl for good measure.
This seems to flush the stranger out. I flick the torch on to help his escape - he is waist deep in bushes, brambles and all sorts. Hello mate, he says in another deep Estuary accent. You haven't seen two guys around here have you ?
Yes I say, they are up on the other side of the valley.
He looks at me unsure.
Follow that trail up there I say. He still looks unsure. Do you know the woods I ask ?
No he says, never been here, don't know where I am.
Uh ok. Follow me then.
I fucking hate dogs the thin wiry stranger admits, looking at my two mutts who have since grown bored and wandered off to sniff things.
Ah sorry I say.
Not your problem mate. You weren't to know.
The young, tall, rake thin guy follows me through the woods, he asks if there is a swamp here ? No I reply. Oh he says.
Finally we get to the two guys, they call out to each other - nicknames.
Who have you got there with you the guys ask.
Some guy and his dogs he replies.
Why comes the question.
I was lost he says. And you are a fucking retard.
I leave the guys to it.
But it gets me thinking. Why would three people agree to meet in a forest they have never been to, at night, and be wary of strangers.
Up to no good I wonder.
I ponder the wisdom of actually leading all three to find each other. Perhaps I should have left the young lithe one lost.
It occurs to me they could be burglars. The skinny one to climb in the windows, the two much older guys to provide the muscle.
Who knows.
