The story
The early morning cold in that mountainous region used to chill you to the bone, forcing the farmers to wrap themselves in heavy ruanas, traditional woolen ponchos, before the first rooster announced the day. It was barely five in the morning when don Anselmo, a man of slow but steady pace, got out of bed to carry out his daily routine of milking the cow in the highest pasture of the finca, a small country farm.
In the dim light of the house, his grandson Rodrigo woke up upon hearing the creaking of the wooden door. Checking the kitchen, he noticed in a rush that the old man had forgotten to take the metal pail where he deposited the fresh milk. Without thinking twice, Rodrigo grabbed the container, zipped up his jacket, and went out following in his grandfather's footsteps, determined to catch up to him before he reached the stable.
The path meandered up a steep hill, surrounded by brush and eucalyptus trees that cast elongated shadows under the pale glow of the moon. Rodrigo walked quickly, his breath fogging the freezing air. About three minutes after starting his trek, when he looked up at the open stretch of the trail, his heart did a sudden flip. Some two hundred meters away, the unmistakable silhouette of his grandfather was moving toward the summit. But what froze the boy's blood wasn't the old man's presence, but the tall, dark figure marching right on his heels.
That intruder was wearing strangely gray clothes that seemed to blend with the morning mist. It walked with an almost mechanical precision, glued to don Anselmo's back, mimicking each of his rhythmic movements. Rodrigo stopped dead in his tracks, feeling a mix of confusion and a deep unease that made his skin crawl. He wanted to shout, to warn his grandfather of the danger lurking behind him, but an invisible weight in his throat held his voice back. The figure didn't make a single sound; its gait was silent, gliding over the damp grass without leaving a trace.
For long seconds, the young man stood petrified, watching that macabre procession amid the absolute silence of the countryside. When he finally managed to catch his breath and took a few steps forward to intervene, the shadow seemed to subtly dissolve into the dawn vapors, leaving him alone halfway up the slope.
Minutes later, Rodrigo caught up with his grandfather at the corral. The old man, busy with his chores with the cow, looked at him strangely upon seeing the container in his hands. When Rodrigo asked him in a trembling tone about the person who had been walking along with him on the way, don Anselmo frowned, shook his head flatly, and assured him that he hadn't crossed paths with anyone, nor had he heard any stranger's footsteps in the solitude of the road. That mystery was never solved, leaving in the boy's memory the persistent doubt of who, or what, walked alongside the living in the cold early mornings of the countryside.
