Chapter 2
Dark, dreary
Hands in the shadows
Reaching, pulling, grasping
Take your body
Devour your soul
We've taken to levitating Aria in the air. You see we've entered the Forest of Tall Pines where the forest envelops the world, blocks out the sky and swallows your cries. I'm not being overly dramatic, people have been known to wander into the forest and mysteriously disappear.
Its hard to maneuver in the forest among tree stumps, ditches, rocks and buried root systems and even harder yet to navigate directions. The giant pine tree looming in front of us is a carbon copy of the tree behind me and the tree ten feet father before us.
Aside from identical evergreens the forest smells like a forest. That is where the similarities stop. It's eerily quiet. No birds chirping, no crickets playing music, no scuffle of pine needles underfoot or knocking branches. There are no canals or rivers, not even one trickling stream or bubbling brook. It's as if nature and wildlife gave up on this piece of land.
We've followed Calliope's directions for quite some time. Seeing as there is no sunlight in this hellhole of a forest it's difficult to say how long exactly. I have faith in her skills; a graduating requirement of Central High is a credit in Tracking 101 and she was the best of our year. Something up ahead catches my eye and I stop to inspect an unusual trail of prints on the ground.
Hybrid! I warn and everyone drops to the ground as spears fly above our heads. I'm unable to determine the type of hybrid as the foot prints aren't clear. The inhabitants of this forest have come to be our unwanted escort. We hear the hybrids conversing in a brutish, vowel-less language. There's very little underbrush to hide in and it barely covers us as we instinctively follow Adrian and scuttle across the ground away from our pursuers, buying us a few minutes.
I can feel the anxiety running through the group; Flynn in particular is worked up, rubbing his face, pulling on his hair and glancing at Aria, still floating in the air, trailing us. What should we do?
I look at Carmen, unsure myself and wait for her often wise advice. Coincidentally she has none to give.
We should split up making it harder for us to be tracked, Calliope suggests meekly and an idea comes to my mind.
You brilliant girl! She smiles shyly at my praise, her face lighting up for a moment before a guttural howl reminds her of the situation. She shivers as if a cold hand is gripping her arm and I hurriedly strategize.
After quickly hashing out a mental action plan we split up. I watch as my friends disperse into the trees, some running some climbing, before doing my part, running like the wind while howling like a banshee.
The plan seems to be working as I kick up a fine layer of dust and pine needles and let loose a resonating shriek. I hear the hybrid gang mutter and then their quick light footsteps as they lower to all fours and take the bait. I smile leading their pursuit in circles and twists, doubling back to confuse their senses.
I run quickly, summoning winds to help me along, yet although their numbers begin to dwindle four of them stay on my trail. They're fast and seem to glide across the rocky forest floor, nothing stumbling them. They're like a pack of wolves; they hunt in groups, taking turns in the lead. I may be fast but I don't have a great metabolism and the hybrids could potentially run me to the ground.
Knowing this, I use my rapidly building momentum to push off of the ground and fling myself thirty feet in the air, smacking into a giant pine. I feel myself falling, wind whipping my tangled hair into countless knots, and reach my arms out, trying to catch one of the branches whipping across my face. Thankfully I grab one and steady myself before I start climbing. My soft hands are unused to the harsh feel of climbing and chaff against the rough bark.
I situate myself thirty-odd feet up the tree, waiting for the hybrids to run past me. Seeing as they rely less on brain power and more on instinct I put all my faith in hoping they don't look up. As I hear their padding feet approaching rapidly, as if still in pursuit, a rush of pride in my clever diversion tactics fills my chest. That is, until the stench hits me.
A wet dog smell wafts in my direction accompanied by an overpowering rot and an underlying wisp of death. This was no ordinary wolf-hybrid pack, something else lead them. Something intelligent. It seems, as a looming beast appears below me, grinding its claws into the shallow dirt and slides to a stop ten feet from my tree.
That's where my day went downhill.
