Annabelle Underwood's adventures: A dreadful trap (Part 1)

On her way to the North Pole, Annabelle Underwood crosses the wild forests of Canada when a violent storm forces her expedition to take shelter in an old trading post. But at dawn, a scream shatters the silence: a human skeleton has been discovered among the broken branches. Accident, revenge, or a carefully hidden murder? Between buried secrets, threatened nature, and clues left behind in the bones, Annabelle must solve a case where every trace may reveal the truth. 

Transcript

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Welcome to this new investigation by Annelle Underwood. Today we are taking you deep into a distant journey, into the wide, mysterious and unpredictable land, among grandiose landscapes, an expated encounters and buried secrets. Annabelle will once again be faced with a troubling mystery. Make yourself comfortable and let yourself be drawn into this new adventure where the beauty of nature stands beside the shadow of mystery. Here is Annabelle and Derride's sixth investigation. A dreadful trap. Saturday, April 2011, 1911. Hello my dear. Hi. I am taking the liberty of sending you a letter before our final stage towards the North Pole. We are currently in Canada, in the northeastern part of the country, to be more precise. What a magnificent place, truly splendid. Cities interest me very little compared with forests, with nature so omnipresent in this country. And besides, it is a very pleasant change from the whole continent. Haydn is in heaven in these places, mainly populated by conifers such as pines, sponge, firs, larch, and cedars. We spend hours exploring them, sometimes just the two of us, sometimes with the rest of the expedition team. Everyone has arrived in Canada and joined us. There are eleven of us in total. Eight scientists, one photographer, Haydn, one journalist reporter, me of course, and our guide. Unsurposing, there are only men except for me. Below, I am writing to you the list of the scholars accompanying me and their specialties. I think it will interest you and help you see more clearly in my next letters so you know who is who and who say what. We have Professor Johnson, our expedition leader, who specializes in Arctic and Subarctic lanes. Professor Thomas, a great expert on sea currents, ice, and the formation of icebergs. Professor Sharma, those research are focused on the ocean of the northern hemisphere and the currents. Professor O'Male, who specializes in the marine fauna of the North and South Poles. Professor Fijial is undoubtedly the most precise of them all, concentrating all his attention of the families of Euphodiza and Benthodizae. These are small crustaceans found in the ocean, more commonly known as krill. Professor Schmitz studies wildlife and, in particular, the great predator of the icy desert, the polar bear. Professor Dupont, who will be responsible for the map on the route, is an astrophysicist. And lastly, we have Professor Mayer, a linguist specializing in the indigenous language of Canada, but we shall return to him in the following pages. Now that you know everyone, let us return to the course of my adventures in the forest of this immense country. I sometimes have to pull Haydn by the arm to bring him back, make him eat something, or get him moving during our crossing. He can spend hours standing in the same spots in order to take the most beautiful and perfect photograph possible of this or that bird, insect or mammal. It blends so perfectly into the landscape, motionless like that, that life itself seemed to forget him. Only the click of his photograph mirror reminds us that he is merely a temporary addition to the scenery. If it were up to him, if we were forced to follow his pace, we would not move more than three meters a day, and that that number is generous of me. But I understand his enthusiasm and motivation. Nature is magnificent here, with great lakes and rivers. And do not misunderstand me. I am not saying Europe is graceless, but rather that it's very different from the panoramic views we can admire here. It is a true breath of fresh air after a virus stop in large cities such as New York, Boston, and Montreal. Some waterfalls are incredible as well. Water bursts forth in abundance and hypnotize our eyes, poor Haydn. We have done nothing but hurry him along for days in order to avoid falling further behind schedules. Unfortunately, every day counts. Our budgets remain somewhat tight, for the Arctic lands are still far from here. Along the way, we have had the incredible chance to meet many indangerous people from different tribes. Our passionate linguists, a professor at the University of Montreal, himself descended from the Naskipe tribe through his grandparents, offered to accompany us and help us understand this language and customs that are unfamiliar to us. He is as fascinating as the explanations he gives us. I would not know how to pay proper tribute to these peoples, and I would be afraid of explaining many traditions and beliefs poorly. That is why I encourage you, if you wish, to go there yourself one day. You will then have the chance to discover incredible cultures and splendid landscapes as well. And besides, it would surely do you good to step a little outside your comfort them. The journey is long, tiring, even exhausting, but the company and the encounters are pleasant. We must go to the top of Quebec, into inuit territories, to take a boat that will carry us along Greenland and Baffing Bay. Then we will go to the Grease Fjords before finally reaching the Arctic. I know it is not the fastest or simplest route to get there, at least apparently, because it is not my job to decide on an itinerary and even less to read a map. But it is a journey chosen by the scientist board of this expedition and I was not going to control exam. Especially not without any valid reason. For many scientific and research-related reasons, this path was chosen. But let us return to Central Quebec where I'm currently am, if you will. I have not yet seen or experienced the rest, so I will tell you about it later. And to be completely honest, I am rather apprehensive about the rest of the journey. I, who I am so sensitive to cold, I hope to not turn into a high statue. So, if I am writing to you, it is not only to tell you about the incredible journey and crossing I am living through, but also to recount a thorny mystery I was asked to solve. A complex mystery far more difficult than the last one. I needed Haydn's help to find a solution because I did not possess all the necessary knowledge. But once again, I am losing myself and going too fast. I can already hear you becoming annoyed, for it is true that, as always, these letters go in every direction. But anyway, let us resume, or rather, let us begin again. Our story begins while we were crossing Quebec. The expedition was still very far from the icy deserts of the North Pole. We had just left Quebec City after a few well-deserved days of rest and has been on the road for about a week. The weather, so mild at the beginning of our journey, worsened day by day until a trend storm broke out. A storm of such power has had rarely seen. The trees bent under the rain and wind on our shoes and the ooves of our horses became covered in mud with fear for ourselves, of course, but also for our months. We were afraid they might break a leg or fall into a ravine. After hours of battling the elements, our guide, Mr. Brown, led us toward a wooden shack. This place has a particular function. I do not know whenever you know its true purpose. So just in case, allow me to explain. As I have just written to you, Canada is known for its landscapes and forests, but not only that. Indeed, a significant part of its economy and trade with Europe is based on the fur trade, especially beaver fur. Other furs, such as those of caribou and martens, are also trades, but beaver fur is of particular interest in Europeans. Why? You're actually wondering? To make the hat we are also fond of, men and women alike, in fact. The skins of these animals is transformed into a waterproof and elegant felt that humans love so much. Indigenous peoples are largely the ones who hunts these animals in order to trade them with company, which then sends them onto Europe. And why is the connection with that sack in the middle of the wood, you may ask? It is precisely a place of exchange between the tribe and the different companies that buy the furs from them in order to resell them later to the highest spider. Now that you know all of that and that you understand all these elements that will be important for the rest of our story and my adventure, let us return to the storm that threatens us more and more. Nature, in such moments, shows who the true master is, who dominates the world. We so often tend to forget it, wanted to control it absolutely, want it to appropriate its resources until they are exhausted. And yet, we must not forget, never forget that we are only passing through the earth, through our planet. We forget too often that we are one with it and that we must not fight against it, but frightened with it. This thought struck me all the more as the torrents suck us to the bone and the wind attacked us reludently until we were exhausted. After a long time spending resisting Mother Nature, we finally managed to rush inside that famous trading spot. Three people were inside, three men from the Inu tribe, patiently waiting for the weather to calm. The entire team rushed inside, horses included, to take shelter. The night promised to be long, very long. We were all exhausted, but under the influence of adrenaline and emotion, we were completely unable to sleep. After brief greetings, the Inu Inurus for a while before offering that we join them and eat together. Everyone accepted with infinite gratitude. Indeed, after such an ordeal in the storm, our stomachs were crying out with hunger. I myself was starving. They were very curious about our presence here and the course of our journey. They thought we were part of the Hudson Bay Company and had come once again to negotiate the pelts from uncomplain. They knew Mr. Braun and seemed to hate him with all their thoughts. He, having worked for that company for many years, had no respect for indigenous lands and beliefs. He thought only of money and profit. In recent years, beaver pelts has been bringing in less and less these mammals over hunts has become increasingly rare and difficult to find. And besides, the fashion for hats made from that material was slowly beginning to decline. To be entirely honest with you, I do not particularly like Mr. Braun, who has the unpleasant habits of looking down on everyone, but I do not hate him to that extent either. And even if it costs me to admit it, he knows the terrain far better than I do. I would never have been able to know where that shark was if he had not shown us the way. The three men explained to me how they hunted beavers using sophisticated traps and how they had been forced to push their roots farther and farther north and west to find them, hunting and the fur trays remained profitable for them, but for how long? Only fate will tell. The three men could not help worrying about it. Then they spoke for a long time with our linguists, who was trying to complete as much as possible one of the many dictionaries he has begun writing. I followed the conversation about spelling and grammar when nodding off, for the fatigue of the day was beginning to be felt. They seemed to get along well, even if our professor could be sometimes a little clumsy and offensive in his question, a bit awkward in his manner too, which sometimes tires me. And I think he does not like me very much. He has trouble understanding my role, my usefulness in this expedition. Outside, the storm continued to rage, the wind and the objects it carried in its path violently lashed the roof and walls. Once night had fallen, we unanimously decided to go to bed. The subjects of conversation were beginning to run out for most of us. It was time to sleep, and despite the noise and the large number of souls around me had collapsed. I was gently awakened by the sound of the forest and its inhabitants, then violently by the scream of a human being seized by fear. Jumping to my feet like the rest of those presents, I rushed outside. The scream continued without interruption, silencing the other inhabitants of the woods, who, frightened in turn, had not dared continue their daily song. Before I continue, I prefer to warn you, I don't know how to pronounce the Inu name, so I'm really sorry. So we all went around the building, those paint and wooden walls bore the scarves of the previous night. On the ground lay one of the three Inu. Watch this. His face rages by fear. We all look at the same direction as him and discover a pile of branches heaped together, and along these corpses of nature lay another corpse. A human corpses, bones, an entire skeleton, the different bones has been scattered by the storm stood before us. And without being mistaken for a second, I knew that this skeleton could only belong to a human being. Where Sisju stood facing the skull, so Zhou dislocated from the canoe, looked like a terrible ill omen. And that's all for today. Thank you for listening to this episode until the end. I hope you enjoyed this story. And if you like this episode, don't forget to leave us a like, subscribe and share the podcast with others. It helps us a lot and allow more people to discover the words of Annabelle Underwood. Thank you again for listening and see you soon for the next part of the adventure.