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⊹ Book 1 of the Aldergrove Duology ⊹
After being told he has only six months left to live, Clementine decides to track down his sister's murderers, leading him to Aldergrove A...
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The sky had become murky as a light drizzle of rain began falling. It was much quieter outside—no whispers, no groaning walls, and the pitter-patter of rat feet was gone. All that Clementine could hear was the wind through the trees, and it was something of a relief.
He followed behind Elliot's friends as they headed through the courtyard and past the fountain Molly had first been attacked beside. And as they stepped into the quiet, murmuring forest, his eyes slowly shifted to the ground.
Amanitas, russulas, toadstools, porcini—but no ceraroot.
"Which way did this guy go?" Carmichael asked, looking over at Clementine as they stopped a few feet into the forest, just enough so that they could still see the shadow of the academy through the fog.
Clementine nodded straight ahead. "That way."
Carmichael continued to lead the way.
As they moved deeper into the forest, Clementine stared down at the lime-green grass, searching for the shimmering silver glow of what he was looking for. But the longer it took, the more anxious he began to feel. There had to be ceraroot out here; it grew in the highlands, and Aldergrove sat upon the highest point in the continent—how else would all these entitled people evade the suffocating fogs that had consumed everywhere else?
He shook his head, glaring at each fallen log, frantically searching every gathering of mushrooms they passed—
"Over there!" Bernard called.
Startled, Clementine took his eyes off the grass and stared in the direction Bernard was leading the group.
"Don't go near that!" Elliot insisted, chasing after them.
Clementine followed the trail of flattened grass with his eyes, and when they located a horrific, mutilated body of something he wasn't able to make out from where he stood, he struggled to swallow the saliva that had been pooling in his mouth during his moment of startle.
Whatever it was, it was black, bloody, and shimmering despite the lack of light. A carapace, perhaps?
"Don't!" Elliot insisted, grabbing Carmichael's arm before he could prod the corpse with a stick he'd swiped from the ground.
"The hell is this thing?" Stanley uttered, nudging one of the corpse's limbs.
Bernard kicked it. The collision made a sound much like a large book dropping onto the ground. "Gross," he uttered, wiping his boot in the grass.
"We should head back," Elliot panicked, looking around as Carmichael pulled his arm from his grip. "Whatever killed this thing could still be out there."
