The little shop's sign proclaims it as "Wonders of the Wilds," and the hand-painted images of fantastic beasts in the window draw Gary's eye. He has always felt a kinship with the myths and legends of the deep forests. Inside, the shop is a riot of plants, animal skulls, stones, and crafts made to resemble mythical creatures. Gary is enchanted. He lingers over delicate wind chimes made of bone, admires a tooled leather mask shaped like a fearsome wyvern. His fingers brush soft rabbit fur, antlers, feathers - remnants of woodland lives.

At the counter, he chooses a necklace of stones and carved wooden beads to purchase. The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with eyes that have seen and held many secrets, nods as she wraps his selection. "You're going to the cabin up on Ghost Ridge," she says. It's not a question. When Gary starts in surprise, she pats his hand. "The trees always know when someone new is coming. Their whispers guided you here today for a reason."

She hands him the package and smiles. "Trust your heart up there on the mountain. The woods will share their secrets if you let them."

Gary thanks her and continues on his way, turning her words over in his mind. Maybe there was something fateful in this detour after all. The forest feels a little less lonely now, and he is curious what secrets the trees may hold.

Gary gets back in his car and hangs one of his purchases - a dream catcher with a beautiful pattern - on the rear mirror. It is nice looking, without being too distracting.

Nothing of note happens during the final leg of the trip, and Gary tries to remember why the place was called Ghost Ridge by the locals. It wasn't its official name, of course, but remembers being told the legend of Ghost Ridge by his father. It was a spooky story, but with a happy ending that made Gary feel better when he was a kid.

The memory of his father's voice telling tales around a campfire warms Gary as he drives up the winding mountain road. The legend of Ghost Ridge was always one of his favorites - how the spirits of those who perished alone and unfound in the woods would linger there as wisps of mist and strange lights, never able to rest until someone came to acknowledge them. Gary glances at the dream catcher swaying gently on his rearview mirror. If there are any restless spirits here, may they find their way through the web and on to peace.

He breathes deeply as he pulls up to the cabin, taking in the clean mountain air scented with pine and smoke from distant chimneys. Snow dusts the deep green of the fir trees and the last autumn leaves clinging to bare branches. It's beautiful here. Peaceful. Gary's heart lifts just standing in this place, like a weight has fallen away. He grabs his bags and heads inside, a new lightness in his step. Whatever this cabin holds, whether memories, secrets, or spirits, he hopes it will welcome him as one of its own.

It's chiller than Gary expected, but he otherwise came prepared. It's actually rather nice.

The cabin is not too big from the outside, sitting on a foundation of stone and made out of a dark - almost black - wood. A single store tall, but with a high ceiling, and steep roofs. By no means luxurious, but better than expected. Gary is even surprised that the key works and the door opens without too much noise.

He is less delighted by the clutter. For a moment, Gary even thought there was someone inside, but it was just piles and piles of boxes, some furniture covered by bedsheets. No people. Not that Gary expected anyone else. There was a clear way to the fireplace, and another way to a door. Otherwise, it was hard to move around. Gary investigates and sees that the unblocked door leads to the bathroom, but - from what he could see - there were at least two other doors. Which should lead to the bedrooms. The front door opened to an integrated kitchen and living room area, but Gary couldn't even spot where the sink and stoves might be. Maybe someone covered them with bedsheets too?

Gary decides not to panic, the weather was chill, but mild and with no chances of snowstorm from the weather forecasts. He is prepared to stay a couple of nights if the place is otherwise unlivable. First step, maybe he should make a list of things to check and do before doing anything?

Gary pulls out a small notebook and pen and sits on the stone hearth to start his list. The fireplace would be the first order of business - he'll need heat and light as the sun goes down. He locates a stack of dry firewood neatly piled to the side and sets a fire, soon feeling its warmth spread through the chilly room.

Next, taking stock. He carefully navigates the boxes and sheets covering various pieces of furniture. A table and chairs, a shelf of books, a sofa. The kitchen comes into view as he uncovers appliances and cupboards. Not too dusty, all things considered. His uncle had made an effort to seal things up properly. Satisfied the basics are in order, Gary turns his mind to the task of clearing space to make the cabin livable. He could take his time sorting through things. But he feels eager to uncover the shape of this place, discover what surprises it might hold. The shopkeeper's words about the wisdom of the woods whisper in his memory. There were secrets here waiting to be revealed, and his heart was ready to receive them.

Gary is surprised by the lack of spiderwebs. He supposes that is too chill for them here.

Eventually, he unblocks the other two doors and uncovers the backdoor - hidden behind a large portrait. The bedroom was small, but largely free from the clutter. The other "bedroom" was apparently some kind of office. There was a small cot, but clearly the point of the place was the table with the typewriter on. It had a perfect view of the lake. Gary wondered if his uncle was a writer at some point. The set up looked just perfect for the activity. And the machine itself was in pristine condition.

Gary runs a hand over the dusty typewriter, imagining his uncle sitting in this very spot clacking away at the keys. What kinds of stories and secrets had he set to paper within these walls? Gary makes a mental note to search for any manuscripts that might be tucked away among the clutter as he continues clearing it out. Even if his uncle had never achieved fame as an author, Gary would love to read his words, to know more of the man who had spent his final years in this cabin.

He sits for a moment in the old wooden chair surveying the chaotic jumble of sheets and boxes. The task of unraveling this clutter suddenly feels overwhelming. Where would he even start? He glances around at the mess, takes in the thick layers of dust coating every surface, and feels his earlier enthusiasm dim.

"One step at a time," he mutters to himself, sighing. Clearing all this out would be a massive undertaking. For now, just making a space to sleep and regroup is probably enough. The secrets of this cabin have waited years; they can wait a little longer while he gets his bearings.

Resigned to a gradual process, Gary heads back to the front room. He sweeps aside boxes and lay a sheet on the old sofa. It will do for a bed for now. The cabin's mysteries are not going anywhere.