 The text below was found in a half-burned journal within a lean-to-shelter built against the wreckage of the Pelican, a brush plane reported missing a month ago. Despite a sweeping search of the area in a five-mile wide circle, nothing could be recovered of the pilot, Jensen Dennings. The stranger signs of his survival were markings found in a circle around his base of living, as if to determine territory. Signs of broken game traps have been discovered outside this territory with one area resembling what rescuers assume was his last stand against a massive grizzly. Blood covers said area thickly. The text below is transcribed from the journal. The incidents and details can be taken as evidence of how badly concussed and injured Dennings was, as some entries seem to detail severe brain damage from the crash. No evidence of the creature Dennings speak of can be found. Note, initial pages are heavily scorched if not burned completely away. Days 1 through 7 are lost. Dennings skips days. Theories state he may have condensed progress into chunks. Day 8 Took inventory of what's left of my plane. Shelters should hold out for snow. Managed to salvage most of the plane for what I needed. Wires for cordage, fuel for emergency fire starter, seats for a decent bed. Got emergency rations for my survival kit under the seat. Maybe two to three days worth if I stretch it. Fire is easy to keep lit. Plenty of dead trees and cedars here and my little hatchet is coming in handy. Left leg busted. Ears still ringing. Shock is gone. Gotta hunker down and hope they find me. Day 13 Foods down to dried nuts and fruits, sparingly eating those. Snow came in heavy two days ago. Wind has been tearing at my shelter. But the cedar branches help as best they can. Reset my leg in the fork of a tree. Wrapped it with branches and a tie down strap. Gonna have to do. Found a river south of my forked tree. Water is fresh and clear. My ears don't ring anymore. Still praying they find me. I got faith in the rescue teams back at HQ. Day 16 Eyes caught a pair of them across from my fire after waking up. Just on the outside of the lights reach. No moon out. Darkness made it all the more unnerving. Two white orbs. Completely still. A bear, a wolf, a deer. They would prowl around. Move some. Not this. It held completely still. Splashed fuel on the fire to spook it. Wasn't there when the flames settled down? I'm going to make a circle of spears around my camp when the sun comes up. No sleep tonight after this. Still have hope. Handful of nuts now. Maybe the stream has fish. Day 22 Eyes haven't returned. Sleep is still difficult. Leg is still stove up and tender. No fish to be found. No rabbits. No sort of small game. I've got a little fat on me. I can last a week or two without food if I have to hunger is bad, though. Got the spears set up, stomped a trail a few hundred feet around my camp, hung up pieces of the wreckage, pissed here and there, broke limbs off. Don't know what I expect that all to do. But it is a simple task that makes me use my legs and keep occupied. Gathered up some wood, limped around outside my little area to search for food. Just barren woods and snow. Day 25, woke up to a low fire, barely lit. The eyes were closer now, a few feet away. I screamed in terror and the eyes lifted up higher than what I stood. And it screamed back through the last of my fuel on the fire. I caught a glimpse of it bounding away, skin and bones, all gray and screwed up, built the fire high and huddled as far back against that plane as I could. It's not afraid to close in when I'm not ready. And it likes to do it at night. Noted, added more spears when sun broke, set some snares outside my area in desperation, scared shitless the whole time. Hunger is maddening, they need to find me soon. Day 32, no eyes taken to digging at roots under bushes and trees, eating bugs in the softer stems. Stomach is on fire constantly, but it holds me out, legs getting better. Water turned murky yesterday, added another wall to the shelter, stuffed jagged bits of metal here and there, small comfort. I don't wait for the rescue teams anymore, just for the eyes. Day 34, saw it just before sunset while out scavenging. White eyes, only part I could see as it leered at me from behind the bushes and hidden just across the stream, picked up a big branch, swung it around and yelled a war cry. It stood up, let out a whistling screech, took notice of how large its stomach was, not so thin now, pissed myself right then and there, turned and ran, heard it going the opposite way too. Day 36, it marked around my markings, exactly three feet from each of my markings is claw marks or stacked pebbles, it's smart. I check over my shoulder constantly, smallest noise makes me panic. Hunger is getting worse, but I refuse to leave my circle. Day 37, it sits outside my circle of spears now, fire doesn't scare it. I refuse to try and get close. Imagine a gray alien with an oval like head, all thin and smooth, no genitals, no definite features save for those eyes and daggers for claws. Sits in the same spot, it still has a belly on it, good and fed apparently. No water, no food. I refuse to move further than my spears. Day 39, last entry I'll make, I can't take it anymore. It looks fatter lately, must have found something I haven't. Hunger and thirst is driving me mad, sharpened my hatchet all day. I want to eat, I need to eat. The sun's going down and I'm going hunting, one of us eats tonight. God forgive me for my sins, I hope they find me.