In 1993 I was living in Camden, Maine. I moved there 3 months before from PA. It was wonderful, miles of coastline and forest. Mt. Battie was a park in Camden. Drive the Mt or hike. Look east and the bay, ships would be the sight. Look north and you could watch the skiers on the slope a half mile away.
Down the road I was told about trails that you can hike for miles. One winter, being a hiker, I loaded up my dog and got a map and went for a January hike. Snow was in the air but I couldn't wait, we went. After about two hours of following the trail through mountains, it started snowing real hard, almost a whiteout. My dog loved it and so did I. It was a feeling of magic in the air and snow.
I cam across an open field, maybe about 300 ft of open space. My dog became scared and ran in circles barking. I thought maybe a bear was near. I looked around and could see all around me, no trees just open field. My dog started going crazy, now I'm worried. I started calling for my dog, nowhere in sight. I could her her barking, running away. This was 1 or 2 minutes me looking around in a open field, nothing around.
I turn to my left and this man is standing 3 ft away from me. I almost fell over it was a shock. Where did this guy come from? I backed off about 5 ft and looked at him. At the time I was to shocked to think clearly. So I just said, "Where did you come from?" He was over 6 ft and pure white, like a plastic doll. He didn't answer me, so I turned around because I heard my dog again far away. It was 3 or 4 seconds I turned back back and he was gone.
It was snowing like hell all of a sudden and I started looking this way and that -- no one. All there was was my footprints in the snow. I started getting out of there. About 20 ft down the trail I saw a footprint along side my half snow-covered print. As I walked there was another 10 ft away, new and fresh. Every 10 feet another. All going the opposite way. I tried running and jumping to match the stride of the prints. No way could I do it. I'm 6 ft and could not match the stride. It was going the way I came in, so I followed it, still hearing my dog.
All of a sudden, with fresh snow my old prints pretty much covered, they disappeared. I followed my prints to get back out the way I came. When I got back to my truck my dog was underneath it and not willing to get out from under the truck.
I'm part American Indian and heard stories about wood sprites. They can take the shape of people, but look fake if you look close. I think that is what I ran into that day. A week or so later I went back the same way as before. I never found that open field again, only mountain trails.