Even in a forest of monsters, betrayal always wears the face of a friend. "This is Amber Lockheed. If we've disappeared and you've found this recording on this cell phone, stop searching for us. Get out of this forest. Creatures are hunting us out here. Something like skinwalkers, but more violent. We're calling them cryptwalkers for 'cryptid skinwalkers.' Intelligent. Cunning. They kill humans and large animals, hollow us out, and walk around wearing our hides, impersonating us. They understand our language and can copy our voices. Pretend to be one of us to lure another away from the group. When we're together, they infiltrate us and wait for opportunities to strike. They're afraid of fire, and guns, and not much else. Pretty clear this is why people have been vanishing out here for centuries. Don't search for us. If you find us, we won't be us. Cordon off this forest and burn it. Burn Mourners' Woods to the ground."