Following the chilling success of their first collection, Lady Eckland, Glenn Riley, and new collaborator, Bella Darkwood return to guide you through the shadowy corridors of fear with their second compendium, *Whispers In The Dark 2*. These master...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Canada, 1743
The frigid wind bit into Jonathan Hawk’s weathered face as he trudged through the snow-laden forest. The towering pines stood sentinel, observing his band of twelve redcoat soldiers floundering through the bitter cold in search of vengeance. Each labored breath formed a frosty cloud as the men marched onward, their cumbersome packs scraping against snow-crusted bark whenever they squeezed between the ancient trees.
Jonathan raised a hand, halting the column. He crouched, brushing aside the fresh powder to examine the forest floor. Signs of their Apache quarry were scarce, but Jonathan’s sharpened eyes picked up the faint stirrings of tracks half-buried beneath the daily snowfalls. He ran his fingers along the disturbed earth and scattered pine needles.
“Well? Do ya see anythin’?” Sergeant Campbell huffed out white breath behind him.
Jonathan stood, pulling his fur-lined collar tighter against the chill. “Faint tracks. At least a day old. We continue northeast.”
The sergeant scowled and opened his mouth to retort when a blood-curdling scream echoed through the woods. Birds burst from their perches, scattering in all directions. The soldiers froze, hands flying to their Brown Bess muskets as their heads swiveled about.
“Stand ready, men!” Sergeant Campbell raised his firearm, eyes racing over the dense woods surrounding them. The branches shook briefly then fell still once more.
Jonathan placed a firm hand on the sergeant’s barrel. “Hold your fire. The spirits grow restless here.”
“The spirits?” Campbell scoffed. “Load of nonsense. Probably just a wolf makin’ a kill.”
“No.” Jonathan met the man’s disbelieving glare. “I’ve heard such cries before from the northern tribes near Hudson Bay. We trespass on haunted ground.”
"Haunted ground my arse,” spat the sergeant. “I’ll not have talk of ghosts and ghouls put fear into my–”
Another shriek pierced the air, this one closer and almost human. Half the men startled, fingers twitching near their triggers. Campbell scowled while Jonathan kept his steady gaze trained on the shadowy spaces between the trees, one hand resting on the tomahawk hanging from his belt.
When the forest remained still once more, Jonathan glanced back at the anxious, wind-chapped faces of the men. “We press on. Be vigilant...and do not stray from the group.”
They adjusted their packs and continued their march, though Jonathan noticed the hasty glances the soldiers threw over their shoulders into the dark trees swaying behind them.
__________
The icy shards needled Jonathan’s face as he forced his way through the intensifying blizzard. Night was fast approaching, and the vengeful spirits would become even more aggressive in the darkness. He had to find shelter soon or risk losing more men.
