Greykin Valley

| 53 | Friend or Foe?

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| Jackson |

Jackson couldn't run anymore. His legs felt numb, and his body was screaming for rest. He could still hear the cadejo—they couldn't be too far behind—and he needed to find somewhere to hide. That infected fae might have ignored him, but he wasn't taking any chances with those wolves.

He desperately looked around for somewhere to take cover, but there was nothing but trees, dead bushes, and logs too small for him to crawl into or hide behind. There had to be somewhere; maybe he wasn't looking hard enough.

The cadejo were getting closer. Their snarls scraped at Jackson's ears, forcing him to sink deeper into his desperation. What the hell was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to go? What about that hollow tree over there? No, he wouldn't fit. That pile of logs? That could work. He veered right and hurried over there, and once he reached them, he frantically searched for a way inside. But the logs were piled on top of each other and had a leather strap around them. Evidently, someone had been cutting down trees.

With a frustrated huff, he hid behind them inside and lay on his back. He used his arms to shovel snow over himself, and when he was sure that he was covered, he held his hand over his mouth...and waited.

The cadejo got nearer...and nearer, and after a few seconds, footsteps echoed all around him. The creatures snarled and gurgled—they were searching the area. Did they know he was there?

"Here..." came a harrowingly familiar voice.

"He's...here."

"Search...find...here."

Jackson's heart raced faster. His instincts tried convincing him to make a run for it, but the cadejo were all around him. He wouldn't stand a chance. The moment he revealed himself, they'd all pounce on him, and he'd be dead in seconds.

"Find him," a deeper voice commanded. "Search the area."

That voice was a lot less distorted than the others; it wasn't ensnared with struggle and torment. It wasn't flat or stiff or accompanied by gurgles and snarls. And it made Jackson feel terrified—more than he already was. It gripped him like the maw of a beast, and as it clamped down harder, it let him know that he wasn't going to make it.

"He's...near," a distorted voice called.

"Find...find!" another called.

The cadejo got closer. Their footsteps crunched in the snow all around him, and when Jackson heard the paws of one of them press down in the snow just inches from where he lay, he held his eyes shut and tried his best to hold back his fear. But it was building up inside him so fast that tears started escaping from his eyes.

"Smell...blood," a voice echoed.

They could smell his wound. They were going to find him, weren't they?

Jackson tensed up. Maybe he should just make a run for it. Maybe he'd make it. No...that was stupid. He wouldn't make it. There were too many of them, and what was he going to do without his ethos? What—

A skeletal hand snatched his throat and pulled him out of the snow. He yelled in terror as he was pinned against the logs, and when his eyes met those of a ghastly, decaying prowler, he froze up, and not a sound came out of his dropped jaw.

"Kill—"

"W-wait!" Jackson shrieked. "I-I..." he frowned and gawped at the beast. It...wasn't killing him. The rotten wolves around it stared up at him, and the prowler waited with its jaws wide, its atrocious breath burning Jackson's face.