Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

26. The Centaurs' Tomb

This was the last obstacle, Damir had said, after some experimenting with a candle and other methods that looked nothing short of magic to Volya. Guess it made them even.

Damir swung the pickaxe. The metallic bang resonated off the stone.

Volya had secretly shut down his heart-rate monitor before they entered the cave. Because of this cunning move, nobody but him was aware of how hard his heart hammered against his rib-cage. For this, he also kept his human form.

His nice sister kept a few steps behind, slanting a beam of her flashlight over his shoulder. The centaurs must have sucked their stomachs in to fit through this bottleneck. Volya scraped his elbow by just trying to wipe the sweat off his face. At least they didn't have to bend down. The ceiling of the mountain's butt-crack was high, coming to a zigzagging line four or five feet above his head.

Damir swung again, muscles in his shoulders bulging under a sweat-stained t-shirt.

Marina took an instinctive step back, though her neck remained stretched forward, so tense that Volya could hear the blood rushing through her veins between his own booming heartbeats, ragged breath and the horrible sound of metal hitting stone.

Another hit of the pickaxe—and the stone wall imploded. After the dust settled and the echoes died down, a black gap opened up.

"Yes!" Volya yelled, "yes!"

This was it!

Forgetting where he was, Volya pumped his fist in the air... and hit his funny bone. Before he rubbed the tingling off, cursing, Marina picked a rock and pushed it into his hands. It was about twice the size of a modern brick but five times as heavy.

Good thing all the earthworks build up his muscles. Instead of breaking at the waist with an oouf from the unexpected load, he handed the rock to Kramola.

They had it down to science by now. You got handed a rock, you didn't ask questions. You passed it onto the next pal, sending it out of the cave via the makeshift conveyor belt of hands and paws. And if you were outside the cave, you stacked them in the approved pile.

Luckily, they didn't have to photograph, weigh and label each and every rock, shard and speck of dust, much to Damir's chagrin. And that was the guy who pontificated how accounting was boring!

With a few mighty strokes, Damir expanded the hole in the wall.

Marina handed more rocks to Volya. Volya handed them to Kramola. Kramola handed them to Nadezhda whenever she didn't breathe down Volya's neck.

Nadezhda must have secured her flash-light on some natural shelf in the wall, because its beam illuminated various parts of Damir, as well as dirt and rock beyond.

A couple of times Volya could have sworn, he glimpsed something that was too white to be natural stone. Bones, it had to be bones!

"Damir, please!" Volya finally pleaded. "Are you aiming to erect the Arc de Triomphe or what?"

All they needed was an opening big enough to peek through and see if Yasuwa's bones were stashed inside.

Volya squirmed like he needed to pee. Just big enough... Because it was August 21-st already. Effing twenty-first! Two-one zero-eight. Liam was probably packing right now for goodness' sake.

"Fine." Damir heaved a sigh. "Let's go with this... 'or what'." He lowered his pickaxe and put his hand up, signaling them to back off.

They backpedaled, Kramola less than willingly. So unwillingly, in fact, that Volya stepped on her toe. "Sorry." He wasn't.