Stone Sacrifice ✔️Chronicles of Grey BOOK ONE [COMPLETED]

Chapter Seventeen

To say that I was afraid would be an understatement.

The wolves that hunted the Eastwood were few and far between as they were in danger of the creatures as well, but those that died here almost always turned into ghosts and joined their own pack, seemingly intelligent even in ghost form but always, always hungry.

Every species or creature or hypothetical situation I tossed out, Jovian had told me a way to kill it, a way to outsmart it, a way to escape it. He had told me all he could and if he didn't know, he would find out and learn himself, then teach it to me. My life had been a series of learning, each training lesson a lesson on how to kill or how to protect myself, each bedtime story as a little girl filled with strategy, smart avoiding techniques, and as I grew older, how to best kill.

But when I had asked what do do if a ghost wolf caught my sound, all he had told me was simply: "Run."

Oh, their energy could be weakened just as any ghost, and they were bound to the ground like any other ghost that had died on land, but ghosts were only found in Eastwood where the trees were dangerous - not to mention nearly unclimbable - and there was not just one wolf, but always, always several of them. Each with teeth just as deadly as any other, except one strike would not kill them, only several dozen strikes and by then, you were already dead.

Even the Ruberous Faun would not save me from their attack if they caught up to me.
Unlike the living wolves, their ghosts could smell nothing and so they hunted by sound. If you made a loud noise in their forest, chances are, they heard you. My only hope was to run far, far away from where I had been and then stop and stand in silence until they passed.

The problem with that, however, was the fact that every few steps, a root would come up, or a branch would scrape down and slap my face. A grumplin, somehow having escaped the Black Mountains, attacked me when I ran over it, cutting open my legs, arm, and ripping open my neck before I could grab ahold of it and kill it with a twist of its neck. By the time the Ruberous had healed me enough to start running again, I could hear that they were even closer, quickly coming toward me, and I had to cut away many roots to get up and keep running.

My heart was pounding in my chest and I was simply terrified. They were too close and I still had a long way to go before I reached the mountain. Not days away no, but still far too long to run. If my calculations were correct, it was another eight hours of running to reach it, and though I was in good shape, racing the wolves that long would simply not happen.

Still, I ran as fast as I could. My mind going over possibilities and options as I ducked, leaped and otherwise attempted to dodge out of the way of the branches. A chuckera - a bird normally harmless, simply annoying with their crackling squawks — scratched at me as I ran past and the wolves screamed their howls oh so close. A ghost, a man with a regular form, ran after me with his mouth open in silent horror. I cut it down several times as it neared but was distracted enough by it that a root tripped me. I cut it away and was on my feet in seconds but by then...

A ghost wolf snarled at me, running a few feet to my left, body of bones and ghostly wisps that trailed behind it like a second tail as it neared. Behind me, I could hear another, and to my right, another approached, leaping and nipping at my ankles but missing by a hairs' breath.

I had no choice but to risk the trees.

Shoving the light crystal into my mouth so I wouldn't loose it, I jumped for a branch but it moved out of my way. I almost stumbled on my landing but kept running, my sword going away to reach for my arrows. I had six, it would have to do.

All the trees in Eastwood were the same. Oh, they looked different, yes, some of elm, some of pine, some impossibly defied the weather and were palm trees high and rough and branch less... but they were still the same, for they were like ghosts themselves and had a mind of their own. They also, very much, did not like being climbed and those branches never strayed near for easy grabbing unless reaching or you, and then they would leap out of the way.