Greykin Chronicles | Greykin Mountain

| 6 | Glade

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As Grisly led him through the woods and up a rather steep, rocky slope, Jackson couldn't help but feel a little discouraged. All of this was Greykin Mountain; the people he'd come looking for could be anywhere. Ethan could be anywhere out there...in the miles and miles and miles of tundra and forest. He didn't even know where to start.

Grisly told him that he'd lived up in the mountains all his life and had never seen anyone wandering around; Jackson wanted to believe that this guy hadn't seen anyone because they'd been somewhere he wasn't—no one could be everywhere at once—or because they'd been snatched before Grisly crossed paths with them. But then he felt guilty for trying to convince himself that they were all dead. Were they dead? Had they been turned into wolf walkers? He needed more information. He wouldn't let the despair of not knowing convince him that his friend had been killed.

"So...how big is Greykin Mountain?" He didn't give Grisly a chance to answer. "Isn't it possible that you didn't see any of the people I'm searching for because they were simply somewhere else? Maybe you didn't cross paths."

"God, you're obsessed," Grisly grumbled, stopping when they reached the top of the slope.

"No, I just care."

Grisly held out his arm. "This is Greykin Mountain."

Taking his eyes off the volatile man, Jackson stared in the direction he gestured to...and the sight shattered his hope a whole lot more. Ridges, gorges, hills, and slopes stretched as far as his eyes could see. Thick fir-tree forests and birch woods spread around, over, and between each ridge and towering mountain. Some of the slopes reached the clouds while others sunk into the trees, and the horizon was masked by the tallest, darkest mountain, above which the sun hung perfectly in line with its tip.

It looked like it went on for hundreds of miles—maybe even thousands. How the hell was he going to find anyone out here?

Grisly wordlessly headed down the ridge and towards the forest.

Jackson followed, dragging his feet through the snow. He felt more and more defeated with each step, but he couldn't give up. Yeah, it was a seemingly endless search area, but there had to be someone somewhere who had seen the people he was looking for.

"How much further?" he asked.

The man didn't answer.

"Hello?"

Grisly grunted irritably. "Through these woods."

As they approached the tree line, the smell of pine and lavender clung to the frosty air. A few birds sang in the distance, but the same tense aura lingered within the thin mist that had ensnared the forest.

"Are those rotten things out here, too?" he asked Grisly.

"They're everywhere."

"Why did you want me to take you to the one that attacked me?"

"To do exactly what I did."

Jackson frowned. "But why? It was a wolf, right? Just...rotten."

"Cadejo aren't wolves—not anymore," he uttered, his irritated tone much thicker. "They're mindless and undead."

Dread smothered Jackson's face as his heart thumped a little faster. "Like...zombies?"

"Zombies, infected, corpses—everyone has their own name for them. But among us wolf walkers, they're cadejo."