Greykin Chronicles | Greykin Mountain

| 5 | Grisly

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Jackson trailed behind his rescuer. "Wait!" he insisted.

But the man didn't stop—he didn't even spare him a glance. He continued up the hill and into the trees, and although the man was a lot faster than him, Jackson did well keeping up.

"I just wanna talk!" Jackson called.

Why was this guy walking away? Why save his life and then treat him like he didn't exist?

"Please!" he shouted, coming to a slow, defeated halt beside a pair of fallen logs. He flailed his arms into the air. "I don't know where to go! I've been chased, attacked, shot at—I killed a guy who tried to help me, and so far, you're the only person who hasn't swung any sort of weapon at me."

The man stopped walking.

Jackson's eyes widened a little as he swallowed his hopelessness. But when the guy looked over his shoulder at him, he tensed up again, his honey-brown eyes staring right into his soul. But Jackson couldn't give in to his nerves. "You said our kind—you're...do you...turn into a beast, too?"

A disgruntled frown stole the man's once expressionless appearance. However, as he turned to face Jackson, who remained a small distance away, he adorned another vacant stare.

"Can you help—"

"No more than I already have," he interjected coldly. "You're a rogue; I owe you nothing."

Confounded, Jackson shook his head. "W-wait—"

The man turned around and continued through the woods.

Jackson didn't falter in following. He'd got the guy to stop once; he was sure that he could do it again. And next time, he'd use whatever little time the man gave him to get answers, even if it was only to one of his questions.

"What's happening to me?" he called. "Why did I turn into that...that thing?"

The man didn't stop; he started walking even faster.

"Why did all those people wanna kill me?" He would keep asking until he said something that made him stop again. "Why did you save me if you're gonna abandon me?"

"I already answered that," he called back.

"Yeah, well, I don't know what a rogue is—I don't know anything."

"Not my problem."

"Well, what if I make it your problem? Huh?" he challenged confidently, but his smile ran away the moment the man swung around and shot a hostile glare at him. "I-I'm just kidding," he insisted, stepping away as the man started approaching him. "Really, I only want—"

The man snatched his shirt collar and pulled him into his face. "I'm going to give you one warning, rogue. Stop following me, go back to where you came from, and don't let me see your face again—"

"I can't go back!" he snapped. "W-what if I turn into a thing on the plane and kill everyone? I couldn't stop myself—"

"You'll be fine. The more you turn, the easier it becomes to control your wolf."

Wolf? Was that what he'd turned into? That made sense. His beastly hands had looked a lot like paws. But he shook his head. "S-so, what? You're gonna leave me out here with all those hunters and rotting wolf things until I can stop myself from eating people?"

The man's annoyed scowl faded. "Rotting wolf?"

Jackson stuttered, halting when he was about to explain how he had no idea where to start with controlling himself. "Uh...yeah. It—"