Country Campfire Stories

Sasquatch and Hunting Dog Numbers

Sasquatch gets involved in an online discussion about hunting dogs and temporary field trial numbers.

Sasquatch Orders Fancy Coffee

Bo the Beagle talks Sasquatch into trying some fancy coffee.

Sasquatch Calls Vegan Hotline

Join us as Sasquatch decides to eat healthier. Voice Only Podcast.

The Fire And The Hound - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 — The Pact Snow had fallen in the night, clean and sharp. The world was quiet again, a silence so heavy it pressed against the ears. The humans moved through it like ghosts, wrapped in hides, their breath pluming in the dawn. And behind them — at a careful distance — padded the wolf. For days he had followed. Never too close, never too far. They knew he was there. They left no sign of fear, no thrown stones, no shouts. Each morning, when the fire was stamped out, Aru would glance back — a silent invitation the wolf didn’t yet understand. The wolf hunted for himself at first, chasing small things: hares, rats, half-frozen birds. But hunger never stayed away for long. One morning, the pack of humans found the tracks of elk in the new snow. Fresh. Large. Aru lifted a hand. The humans fanned out, silent, moving with the same precision as wolves. The wolf watched from the ridge. He recognized the shape of the hunt, even if the tools were strange. Spears instead of teeth. Fire instead of fury. Listen for more

The Fire And The Hound Chapter 2

Chapter 2 — The Campfire The fire was alive. It breathed, cracked, and whispered — not like wind or water, but something new. Something that chose to live. The wolf watched it from the trees, eyes reflecting the orange light. Every instinct told him to stay hidden. Yet hunger and curiosity had learned to share the same body. He came again the next night. And the night after that. Always the same: scraps of bone thrown into the dark, soft voices, laughter that didn’t sound like threat. The humans had begun to expect him. Some pointed. One — the scarred man — would always be the one to feed him. He was taller than the rest, broader in the shoulders. The others moved when he moved. His scent carried no fear. The wolf didn’t yet understand leadership, but he knew this one mattered. Each night, the distance between them shrank. A few steps at a time. On the fifth night, the wolf stayed in the open. The firelight painted his fur in gold and shadow. The humans spoke in their strange rhythm, their words low and slow. One of the women — her hair braided with feathers — hummed while she worked. The sound was like a stream under ice.