Elena Ardent's Guide to Being A Grimm - Nick Burkhardt

1.1 | A Grimm Beginning

I follow a strict set of rules whenever I'm in the woods.

Correction. I follow a loose set of rules whenever I'm in the woods.

Okay, I try to keep some things in mind when I'm in the woods, but hey at least I still think about caution.

My Nike sneakers rhythmically thumped against the rocky path that was worn through the forest. The thin clearing was just another jogging path I had discovered since moving to Portland. It was nothing special or unique, but something about it made this path my favorite for when I ran in the morning.

Most people run while listening to music, but I knew better than that. This brings us back to those rules I was talking about. Rule number one: always stay wary. Earbuds block out important noises around you. I'm not talking about chirping birds and babbling brooks. I hate to ruin any idea you have of serene forests, but rustling in bushes isn't always an innocent rabbit.

Rule number two: trust your gut. Your gut is your best friend as it's the purest form of intuition. If a path seems sketchy, then it is. Steer clear. If a sound seems odd, then you better assume it's the goddamn boogie man and bolt.

I was yet to encounter anything odd in the woods since I had immigrated to Portland, but I also have the worst luck imaginable. Not to mention I just completely jinxed myself.

Behind me, the shuffling of feet caught my attention. I didn't look back. Not yet. Even when a pungent odor struck my nose.

I dipped my fingers into the hem of my long sleeved Under Armour shirt and tightened my hand around the handle of the knife tucked into my sleeve. Rule number three: Never leave home unarmed. This isn't a rule that's isolated to wandering the woods. It's universal. If you don't have a gun or a knife, invest. Dick's is open 'til 7.

I continued jogging casually, breathing steadily, even though the rustling behind me continued. There were footsteps. I was being followed.

I couldn't be sure if it was another jogger or an axe murderer, but now wasn't the time to look over my shoulder. There wasn't any need. I was already investigating.

They were keeping their distance. A good fifteen feet or so dulled the noise of their own feet. Their breathing was steady, but didn't match mine. I had been jogging for close to an hour and my heartrate was elevated, my breaths more rapid than theirs. Since hearing the noise, I had slowed my pace. Jogging at the mellow speed had kept their breaths even, meaning they hadn't been jogging for long. They had been waiting, probably in the trees.

The footsteps echoed the tempo of my own as they were mimicking my jogging. I quietly confirmed that I was being followed.

Rather than speeding up to escape whoever-- or whatever-- was stalking me, I slowed until I stopped at a stump of a tree just off of the path. I used a loose shoelace as an excuse to turn and glance to the side, but by the time I had, there was no one there, as if I was the only one on the path.

I smirked as I removed the ball of my foot from the tree stump after retying my shoe. "You know, you kind of suck at this." I mocked, crossing my arms over my chest.

A tree's arm quaked and out of the leaves stepped a man. He appeared to be in his early twenties with messy blonde hair and widened eyes. His lips were parted, like he was in awe of something.

"How long have you been watching me?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow at the guy, who was practically still a teenager. A strong smell wafted from his clothes, like he had tried to cover the scent of dead meat and rotting flesh with approximately the amount of Axe a middle school boy sprayed on in the morning.