Long ago, before the Smoky Mountains were scouted by European pioneers, an explorer was traversing the Appalachian mountains. He was mapping out the region, documenting local flora and fauna, as well as noting places for future development. After several days, he came to a particularly rocky section of terrain. With a poor step, he tumbled down the mountainside and broke his leg. With several agonizing cries, the explorer pulled himself into a cave he had spotted near the base of the cliff. To his relief, the cavern appeared to be uninhabited. Hoping for the best, he straightened his leg out, tore his over-shirt into lengthy strips, and tightly wrapped them around a thick stick placed against the broken bone. The man tried to quiet and calm himself but even the brush of wind against his leg elicited a shrill yelp of agony. After much time spent in excruciating pain—and after his adrenaline had depleted—he fell asleep. Through fleeting moments of consciousness, a giant black creature seemed to loom over him, prod his…