Perhaps only one person in the group didn't share the collective excitement—the guide walking at the head. For him, this was just a job, a routine gig. These frequent river crossings had long become mundane for the forty-year-old guide, as had the surrounding landscapes and the unbridled delight of his charges. Just another day at the office. The young people who had hired him to reach a genuine "bear's corner," however, were in a state of rapture. They were captivated by the mountain vistas, the gloomy cliffs overhanging the river, and the river itself with its foaming rapids. So they marched on: an indifferent guide in front, followed by a cheerfully chattering group of youngsters, ready to marvel at every little thing.
They had met the guide just a couple of days prior, but they had known each other for years. The two women had studied together at university. They looked quite similar, save for their hair colour—one a blonde, the other a brunette. The men worked together at a mobile communications company, where they had built solid careers, starting as simple sales managers in a store. It was there, over a year ago, that they had met the girls. Now the men worked in the innovations department, collaborating on the same project. They were two well-established couples who enjoyed spending time together, preferring active holidays and constantly dreaming up new adventures. This time, they had settled on a mountain hike into the wildest parts, for which they had hired the guide on a friend's recommendation.
Evening was approaching, and in the gorge, you felt it immediately: it grew noticeably darker, and the wind, fresher now, whistled through the crags. Not that it had been hot before—the gorge was high in the mountains; they had long since passed the two-thousand-meter mark.
"We need to pick up the pace," the guide said, turning to the group with a concerned look. "Further on, there's a good spot for camp. We should try to make it before dark."
"Then we'll pick it up!" one of the men replied cheerfully for everyone. He was a burly fellow with a pumped-up physique, noticeably taller than the rest. A chorus of enthusiastic agreement followed, and the group noticeably quickened their step.
They reached the campsite at dusk. In the mountains, this transitional period is brief; the sun disappeared behind a peak, and darkness fell almost instantly. The guide's first task was to get a fire going, sending the others to quickly gather firewood before it became fully dark. A small pile of twigs and branches left by previous travelers lay by the makeshift fire pit. The four friends swiftly gathered an impressive supply of wood from the surrounding trees.
The guide lit a bright fire to make pitching the tents easier, which they all set about doing. Then, they started preparing dinner together—the group preferred sharing duties rather than assigning them. The campsite was filled with cheerful noise and bustle, jokes, and frequent bursts of laughter. They even managed to draw the seemingly aloof guide into their whirlwind; he didn't even notice when he started bantering and laughing along with everyone else.
Finally, dinner was ready and laid out on a cloth spread right on the ground. They sat around this improvised table as best they could, took their spoons, and a relative quiet settled over the camp. Relative—because the river roared nearby, its hum a constant sonic backdrop. The group had covered a decent distance, which had sharpened their appetites, so the only sounds in the quiet were the clatter of spoons on bowls and the contented sniffling of people satisfying their hunger.
"Hey, what's that?" the blonde suddenly said. She froze with her spoon raised, listening, and turned her head away from the fire, into the darkness.
"What are you talking about?" one of the men asked.
"Can't you hear it? Someone's talking over there…" She stretched out her hand with the spoon, pointing towards a dark gully that ran a short distance from the campsite, closer to the river.
"And what is your imaginary friend saying?" joked the man who, unlike his sturdy friend, was known more for his humorous nature. But no one laughed along. Everyone froze, listening intently.
"You know… she's right. But whoever it is isn't talking, more like… whispering," the burly man stated grimly.
All eyes turned to the guide.
"What? This is a first for me too. We should probably check it out…" he said, but didn't move from his spot.
Now everyone could hear the whisper. Before, it had been drowned out by their voices and laughter, but now, in the silence that had fallen, it seeped through the noise of the river—sometimes merging with it, sometimes breaking free. An inexplicable fear of the unknown gripped them all. What was this whisper? Who could be whispering in such a remote place? A person? A whole slew of questions raced through each of their minds. Dinner was instantly forgotten. The voice seemed to be uttering curses—sometimes terrifying and vile, other times plaintive and moaning. The words were impossible to make out, but the sound was unequivocally sinister. They sat in awkward, tense poses, peering into the darkness, trying to comprehend the unknown speech.
"We can't just sit here! We need to find out what it is," the girl who had first noticed the sound broke the stupor. "What if someone needs help?"
"Well, then they'd just call for help, not whisper incantations," the guide muttered.
"W-what incantations?" asked the joker, but he clearly wasn't in a laughing mood now.
"How should I know? Something foul, I'm sure," the guide replied nervously.
"So, are you just going to sit here and shake? Or will you pull yourselves together? Are you men or what?" the brunette flared up.
"I didn't sign up for this…" declared the guide.
"What do you mean, didn't sign up? This is exactly what you signed up for! And you were supposed to tell us about any local horrors!"
"These aren't any local horrors, I'm telling you, it's the first time I've encountered… uh… heard this."
"Listen, we've been sitting here for a while, and nothing bad has happened. It's just a whisper…" the blonde supported her friend.
"She's right. Do we have a good flashlight?" The burly man resolutely got to his feet.
"Yeah, I have one," the guide said, also standing up. He went to his tent and soon returned with a powerful flashlight. The big guy reached out, and the guide handed it over. He clicked the switch, checked the beam, then walked over to the woodpile and selected a suitable branch that resembled a club.
"Alright, who's with me?"
"I am," the second man said, standing up immediately.
"We're not staying here alone!" The girls exchanged glances and nodded to each other.
"Right. So, we all go together. Or are you staying here?" the big guy asked the guide.
"Together, then," he replied and also started picking out a suitable "club" from the woodpile.
After a brief hesitation, armed with whatever they could find, they moved as a nervous cluster towards the whisper. The resolute big guy with the flashlight led the way, the others huddled close behind him. The guide brought up the rear, nervously glancing around. The gully was about fifteen meters away. It seemed that as they got closer, they would finally make out the words, but the nearer they drew, the louder the river's roar became, and the whisper remained just as indistinct.
The gully itself ran parallel to the riverbed and was apparently only filled with water in spring, during the snowmelt. Now it was dry. Its bottom was level with the river, but the bank was high, so the gully was a deep ravine with crumbling edges.
The source of the sound was near two large boulders that, converging, formed a kind of arch, narrowing towards the bottom. Its top was blocked by a pile of stones, creating the illusion of an entrance to a dungeon. It was from there, from under the dark gap, that the whisper emanated. Slowly, holding their breath, they approached this arch.
"Is that a cave?" the joker asked quietly.
"There were no caves here before," the guide replied, just as quietly, through clenched teeth.
Finally, they were right up close. The big guy directed the flashlight beam under the arch, into the very bottom. And immediately, a unified cry of horror erupted from all five. In the bright beam, they all saw a genuine devil! It was squatting, and when the light hit its eyes, it raised its black, furry muzzle with protruding horns and bared its teeth. At that moment, everyone screamed.
The big guy, standing on the very edge of the crumbling slope, jerked back in surprise. The ground under his feet gave way, and he partly fell into the gully, managing to brace his hands on the edge… The flashlight, of course, fell from his hand and, going out, rolled over the stones with a dull thud. The screams became even more desperate, and the whole group, without a second thought, rushed back towards the saving light of the campfire. The big guy scrambled out of the gully on all fours and shot after his friends like a sprinter.
They all burst into the campsite and, huddling by the fire, stared in horror back the way they had come, keeping the flames between themselves and the darkness. An eternity passed, but nothing happened. The devil clearly had no intention of chasing them. The fire crackled on as before, and from the darkness, the barely audible whisper still drifted over. They stood, watched, and were afraid to move.
"So, what do we do now?" the blonde finally broke the silence.
"What do *you* suggest?" the big guy asked, still recovering from the fright.
"First, let's compare notes. Did anyone else see… uh… the devil?" asked the joker.
"You'd have to be blind not to see it!"
"Is it normal for devils to be hanging around here?" the brunette challenged, looking at the guide.
"Devils don't exist, so they can't be hanging around—not here, not anywhere," the guide replied nervously, clutching a small cross in his hand.
"Did you not see it?"
"I saw it alright! But they don't exist!" he snapped.
"And that cave… Maybe it's some kind of passageway?" the joker began to speculate.
"To where? Hell?" the big guy snorted skeptically.
"What other options are there? And that devil is like a gatekeeper or a guard. That's why it didn't chase us, it's guarding the entrance…"
Everyone fell silent again, staring into the darkness and pondering this. After a while, they began taking turns putting forward their own theories, each more absurd than the last. But no one strayed from the fire—thank goodness they had gathered plenty of wood. Since no pursuit had materialized, they gradually sat down on one side of the fire, not taking their eyes off the gully. But nothing changed. No one went to sleep in the tents; they didn't even venture out to relieve themselves—so great was their fear of being alone. And so they sat all night, making guesses, until the stars began to fade. The whisper, incidentally, would sometimes fade away, only to resume with renewed strength later.
They sat there until dawn, until the edge of the sun peeked over the mountain. They looked at each other, exhausted but having mustered their courage, and rose together.
"Well, we have to go and look," the big guy stated the obvious. "In the daylight, it shouldn't be as dangerous. If it hasn't left, that is."
"Left for where?" the blonde asked.
"Well, back to the netherworld, I suppose," the joker hypothesized.
"Yeah, his shift's over, time to clock out," the brunette remarked sarcastically.
"That's not the point. What if it *hasn't* left?" the guide asked gloomily, still not letting go of his cross.
"Well, there's only one way to find out," said the big guy, gripping his club once more.
They all re-armed themselves and moved towards the gully in the same battle formation. Cautiously, step by step, they approached the edge and, holding their breath, looked down.
Once again, a jointly produced sound erupted, but this time it was laughter—though very nervous and tinged with hysteria.
And they had something to laugh at. Down below, in the arch, pinned between the two boulders, sat a perfectly ordinary goat. The stones had apparently compressed its ribcage when it had fallen into this trap, and now the poor animal couldn't even bleat properly. When the heads appeared above it, the goat desperately threw back its muzzle and tried to make a sound, but all it managed was a hoarse, wheezing exhale—the very sound that, in the silence of the night, could be mistaken for a sinister whisper. Its coat was indeed coal-black, and it certainly had horns. As the guide later explained, livestock was sometimes driven through this gorge. How this goat had managed to fall between the boulders and go unnoticed by the shepherds was a real mystery.
The friends freed the poor animal from its predicament. Now they had to decide what to do with it. In the end, they all agreed to take it to the nearest village they had passed at the start of their hike. They decided to return immediately; after a sleepless night and the fear they'd experienced, not a trace remained of their former enthusiasm. They began packing up the camp, preparing for the journey back.
Explosions of laughter rang out over the dismantling camp as they recalled what each had done and said, the theories they had built about devils and gates to hell. And the "devil," meanwhile, bleated joyfully and nibbled on the emerald-green grass at its feet.
Indeed, sometimes the world is not what it seems…
And the old saying about fear having great eyes? They had just experienced that truth in full measure.
