 When the weather permits, myself and my dog Roxy take a hike on one of the various trails that inhabit the Rye Mountain Park. The peak of the mountain offers phenomenal views of the Hudson River and surrounding woods. With autumn in full swing, the vibrant oranges, yellows, and reds leave a breathtaking view. Roxy has become quite the hiker at this point in her young life. She keeps ahead of me, carefully moving with each step. Her backpack strapped on with her own gear. Roxy and I usually spend the weekend camping out on Rye Mountain if we have the opportunity. Getting away from people, especially during the quarantine, has given me a great excuse to spend my free time camping. Certain areas of the large park can get quite crowded, especially ones that are closer to the various swimming lakes. As the colder weather sweeps in, most of the casual campers have closed it in for the season. This time happens to be my favorite to camp. Not too hot, and the nights are just cold enough to keep bundled up in the tent. Roxy and I have spent many nights huddled together, cooking food over an open flame and watching the sea of stars above us. It really is quite peaceful out here, that is, until the hikers find you. I remember the first group I saw, Roxy and I headed off trail, about a mile or so to a more secluded spot near a stream. A flat open area that was perfect to set our tent up, Roxy played by the water, nipping at the tiny rapids while I set up camp. We were planning on staying till Sunday, then hiking out. I had a few hot dogs, beans, and veggies I was going to set up for the two of us that night, as the sun settled, disappearing beyond the horizon. The quietness set in, not a soul to be seen, off the beaten path, isolated just the way we liked it. I had a carry pistol, just in case a black bear or mountain lion decided to investigate our remote camp. There were many a night where Roxy would let out a guttural growl from within the tent, outside into the darkness of something circling. In these parts, animals are the least of your concerns. It's the hikers that legend says to be weary of. Dusk came without an incident. I grilled hot dogs, cutting up bits for Roxy to enjoy. It was that right time of night where the sky is just dark enough that the stars start to reveal themselves. Roxy and I marveled as they twinkled above us. We headed in the camp for the rest of the night. I poured water over the fire, put away any leftover food, and zipped ourselves in for the night. Sleep came easy in the tent. I often slept better out in the woods than back home in my own bed. As did Roxy, it seemed. It must have been about 3 am or so when I first heard it. A large rustling out in the woods that woke me up. I tossed in my blankets as the sounds rustled on. I listened closely, hearing Roxy snore deeply. The rustling drew closer, sounding more like footsteps. There was someone out there, I thought. Maybe a park ranger telling me I'm not allowed to camp this far out. I popped my head out from the tent, my eyes adjusting to the darkness as I tried to follow the sound. The rustling came from the side where we originally hiked in from. Three figures emerged from the darkness, the moonlight illuminating them before me. Hello? I groggily asked. Three figures, two men and one woman, were standing still as statues with no hiking gear on. Hello there. One of them said as they emerged from the darkness. Can I... can I help you? I replied, fumbling for my utility knife. Can we use your fire? One of the men asked in a monotone voice. Uh, yeah, yeah, give me a minute. Roxy was still asleep. I threw on my coat and headed out to meet the strangers. The three of them had sat down around the fire pit. I struggled to light it in the cold, but managed to finally get a spark. So, uh, were you guys headed to? I asked. One of the men turned towards me, his face blank and cold. We're out here for a hike. Looks like you. But, uh, you guys don't have any gear. It's dangerous to walk around without a light out here, you know. The three of them all turned to face me. We don't need lights where we're going. The woman replied. A chill was creeping up my spine, unsure if it was the temperature or the creepy people that emerged from the woods to find my remote camp. I couldn't put my finger on how they found me, all the way out here. I was like a needle in a haystack with a spot I picked, and why didn't they have any gear with them? It looked like they just rolled out of bed and decided to walk seven miles into the woods in the dark. We sat the four of us by the fire for about twenty minutes, all in silence. The fire crackled before us. They seemed to be put on a trance by it. When the awkwardness of the whole situation came to a boiling point, I finally stood up and I asked them to leave. I, um, I think I'm going to head back to bed. I would appreciate it if you and your friends could leave. The three of them all rose in unison, their shadows dancing around the flames. I poured the rest of my water bottle on the fire, extinguishing it. The pressures seemed to rise as the four of us just stood there in the darkness. I nervously clutched my utility knife, praying I wouldn't have to use it. And then the figures turned like soldiers towards the woods and headed in a seemingly random direction. Thank you. They all replied. I watched as their dark shapes disappeared into the woods. I didn't get much sleep that night. When morning finally came, I packed up camp and Roxy and I headed home. But that was when I didn't know the dangers of the mysterious hikers. Before I knew, never to speak with them while camping. After speaking with people around town and finding old news articles at the library about them, the sinister feeling started to wash over me. I was not the only person to meet a mysterious group of hikers in the woods. I did find I was one of the only ones to survive. Reports began popping up in my research of brutalized campsites, campers torn to bits, their belongings ravaged. Locals chopped it up to hungry animals deep in the woods, but autopsy reports showed something different, marks from strangulation, slices from glass and knives along their bodies. The worst being human bite marks on the corpses. Something is out there in those woods. Not a lot of people like talking about them word of mouth as if you see any of these mysterious hikers that you should just hunker down in your camp and wait for them to leave. My mind flashes back to the night I first encountered the group. I felt like I was on borrowed time after I spoke with them. Hiking after all the research I did lost its glamour, feeling more like I was trespassing on land that I wasn't supposed to be on, that I was unwelcome and unsafe in the parks that I'd spent so many nights on before. So I've taken my hiking to other areas where no one has heard of mysterious night hikers. But something always draws me back to Rhine Mountain. Roxy and I will do day trips there if I can get past the initial uneasy feeling in my stomach. Maybe one of these days I'll spend a night there again. See if my old friends come to pay a visit.