I Ran a Trapline In Alaska. But Something Out There Had My Face

I took over my dead uncle's trapline in the Alaska interior to get away from everything I had wrecked back home. One man, one dog, one cabin at the end of a frozen creek, fourteen miles of line into country nobody else walked. It was the first honest work I had done in years.Then my own tracks started showing up in places I had never been. A machine trail up a bank I never drove. A lynx laid out neat in my snare with no blood and no smell. My uncle's old journals, and the thing he never named, and the one rule he left me about the crossing on the beaver flat.