What was walking in the mist.

The mist fell thick on Ben Macdui as a lone hiker marched across the barren landscape. The mountain rose ominously through the fog. John took long heavy steps, he was determined to reach the summit today. The straps to his backpack pulled heavily on his shoulders, the weight of his tent, water, food and cooking equipment weighing him down and tiring him. He shrugged off the wear, and pushed on, marching across yard after yard of hard cold earth. He could feel himself growing tired and weak, more with every step. But he refused to admit it to himself, even though he could hear a quiet voice in his head telling him "Turn back, turn back now.. Before.." he breathed heavily, mouthful after mouthful of cold damp air filling his aching lungs. The mist grew thicker, until John could barely see a yard in front of himself. The feeling of exhaustion sat heavy on his shoulders, the voice in his head still whispering "Turn back, turn back now.." but still he marched, further and further into the fog. Then suddenly he felt a feeling of dread in his chest. A deep, eerie uneasiness he'd never felt anything like before. The feeling only grew heavier, and the once whispering voice louder "Stop! Turn back! Turn back before..." the dread grew into fear, then finally john stopped, and stood dead still. He took a deep gasp of freezing air as a great tall spectre rose in the distance, vaguely in the shape of a man. Johns heart beat like a drum, the crippling fear wrapped its claws around him and held him, glued in place as still as a statue. The spectre started to draw closer to him, but became no smaller. Its legs alone were as tall as trees, its long arms reaching almost to the ground, its hand each as long as a man, its head rising into the clouds. John mumbled helpless to himself "Dear God... What..." he heard a voice whispering in the mist "Am Fear Liath Mor..." the giant spectre came closer and closer with every huge step it took, and John's terror ripped and clawed at him like a angry ghoul. Until the voice in his spoke again, with just one word this time "Run." and so he did. As fast as his tired legs could carry him. Down the mountain, and away from this terror. The spectre still loomed in the distance, but slowly began to retreat into the fog as john made his way down and away from Ben Macdui, running like he never had before. As he ran further and further away from the mountain, the feeling of dread slowly began to leave him, like a hand had released its grip from around his heart. Eventually he felt safe enough to stop and rest, and sat on a log and took huge agonising breaths. Eventually he got up, and made his way back to town, not even once daring to look back at the mountain. He never spoke again of what he saw that day, and he never went back to Ben Macdui. But although he wanted more than anything to, he never forget what was walking in the mist...