BAD WOLVES - A Grimmhold Tale

Chapter IV - The Mist

Scarlett Lockhart stood on the cliff's edge and let her gaze wander over the scenery before her. The valley opened up to the foot of Mount Grimm, the steep walls merging into the Bone Forest. Treetops stretched like a rustling sea of leaves and shadows, surrounded by a billowing, greyish haze. It could almost have been mistaken for smoke or simple fog. But everyone in Grimmhold knew better.

Scarlett squinted, and her eyes followed the drifts of the greyish mist. Was there a shadow? Had something moved? A shiver ran down her spine, and the young woman shivered. The red-robed woman turned round and let her gaze wander over the mountain behind her. Cableways formed a connection up to the lower town of Grimmhold like a tangle of roots. The city of Grimmhold stretched across the volcano's slope, whose maw opened upwards and circled by the skyships.

The upper town, with its formerly whitewashed buildings, had lost its former splendor but nevertheless stood out like a shimmering crown on the nearby peak. The so-called thorn hedge - numerous cableways and paths for the steam vehicles and means of transport - connected the sprawling buildings with the faded palisades, greyed by steam and smoke, to every possible point. Up there was the pinnacle of technology. That's where the high and mighty resided - safe and far away from the swirling death at the bottom of the land. With their heads above the clouds and their noses held high.

Scarlett wrinkled her nose at these thoughts and lowered her gaze. Below them were the simpler houses of the 'middle class.' From here, she could see the numerous watercourses in a ring around the mountain, giving this part its name: 'The Ring.'

Shingle-roofed buildings made of steel and stone, numerous railway tracks on and above the streets. A jumble with hidden order. Life hummed and buzzed there, for it was the beating heart of Grimmhold. Blacksmiths and inventors showcased their work and inventions, and traders sold their goods, from fabrics to metals. Typewriters clicked, cash registers rattled and clattered. Marionettes were advertised with their services, servant puppets made of wood and metal. In Grimmhold's ring, the mechanisms clicked, the steam engines whirred, and not an animal or a bird's whisper could be heard among the noise.

Grey steam and smoke enveloped a large part of the mountain below. The lower town was home to those who had been less fortunate in life—refugees from the neighboring villages, survivors of the disaster who had lost everything and possessed nothing more than their lives and the clothes on their backs. They lived in run-down houses, cellars, or factories.

The smoke from the refineries blackened the once-reddish shingles of most of the buildings, and the shrill whistling and hammering of the steam boilers sometimes accompanied you through your sleep like a demon. In the lower town, people toiled most of the day and tried to live to see the next. Many were miners, tinkers, chimney sweeps, or tailors. Even more were thieves or ' filthy rabble.' Yes, it was true: dirty work was a daily routine there. But not because people enjoyed doing it... instead because they had no other choice but to survive.

Just as little as she did.

Scarlett shook off the shiver and returned to the task before her. The orders had to be sent to Grandmother's station, and if she were lucky, she'd find out about Raine's disappearance. Scarlett licked her suddenly dry lips and shifted her weight from one leg to another. Then the Redcoat reached to her belt and pulled out the grapple, attaching it to one of the thick strands of cable leading down into the forest. The anchoring clicked into place, then she pulled the ring on the grab down and guided the narrow leather strap to her belt to hook the carabiner onto it.

Her heart pounded faster.

It stumbled and staggered.

Had the immunization worked?

What if it suddenly stopped working?

What if this was the reason nothing more was heard of the redcoats from the forest?

Scarletts felt dizzy under these dark thoughts.

"Don't be such a coward. What would your brother think of you?"

She shook her head, her red curls bouncing excitedly like little sparks of fire.

"Wait for me, Raine. No matter where you are. I'll find you. I swear I will," she murmured her promise, but the wind drowned out her words as she pulled the goggles over her eyes. 

The round protective lenses in the copper-colored frame blocked smoke and wind behind safe glass as she swung over the slope's edge and whirred into the depths. Straight into the billowing death that enveloped the mountain like a scarf of silk.

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Scarlett clung to the grapple's two handles, which resembled a steering mechanism on a penny-farthing or one of the rail gliders. She hurtled downwards on the wire harness. The wind tugged and yanked at her, throwing back the hood, tearing at the red coat, and cascading red strands like a flag on a pole.

Finally, her body plunged into the grey sea of mist and engulfed her. There was nothing around her but grey haze and shadow for a few moments beneath her pounding heartbeat. Then, the silhouettes of the first trees passed her by. Finally, the clear-cut and landing platform came into view.

Under a pillar was a large sack of soft leather filled with countless feathers. Scarlett groaned 'oof' as she bounced into the containment bag. The puffy leather skin received her more or less softly and then released her back to safe ground, shifting her weight and sliding out of it.

The dry ground crunched beneath her boots. Scarlet balanced herself on the narrow runners of her seven-league boots and regained her footing. It was the first time she would be entirely on her own and outside the safe areas of Grimmhold.

The wild sound of excitement and fear pulsed in her chest, blending into a symphony that roared in her ears. The air down here was thick and heavy, so Scarlett reached for the straps of her breathing mask to loosen them.