Greykin Valley

| 87 | Greykin Valley

⥐ ⋞ ☽ ⋟ ⥐

| Jackson |

As the pack navigated the serpentine mountain pass, a suffocating sense of unease clung to Jackson like a persistent shadow. Each twist and turn heightened the eerie anticipation as if the very air around him was thick with an unseen malevolence. The oppressive darkness of the encroaching night seemed to devour any semblance of safety, casting the jagged rocks and skeletal trees into ominous silhouettes against the moonless sky.

His imagination ran wild with the haunting possibility that at any moment, the abandoned outpost would materialize before them, and he'd have to face the horde of snarling, seething cadejo surrounding it.

As the winding path delved deeper into the heart of darkness, the mountains loomed above like a colossal monument to isolation. The jagged peaks scraped against the ink-black heavens, shrouding the pack in an unsettling cloak of obscurity. The howling wind whispered through the narrow gaps, carrying with it an unsettling symphony of indistinct whispers that seemed to echo the unspoken fears dwelling within Jackson's mind.

The journey continued, each step amplifying the tension in the air. The oppressive blackness swallowed the landscape, leaving the pack to rely solely on their wolf senses. In the impenetrable void, every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs became a potential harbinger of impending doom. Jackson couldn't shake the feeling that the very shadows themselves harboured unseen threats, lurking just beyond the edge of perception.

As they pressed forward, the path became an intricate labyrinth of uncertainty. The pale glow of their wolf eyes barely pierced the darkness, revealing only glimpses of the treacherous terrain ahead. Jackson couldn't shake the haunting thought that, in this lightless abyss, losing their way meant succumbing to the abyss itself—a fate far more sinister than what waited inside the valley.

But then a harsh breeze cut through the pass, carrying with it the burning scent of rotting flesh and the sound of savage, suffering snarls. They were getting close, and Jackson tensed up in horror. He wasn't ready to see what waited ahead, but there was no turning back. They had to get to the lab, and he had to fight his fear.

"Stay close," Damon told him once again.

Jackson nodded as he moved a little closer to his mate. He focused on the glow of moonlight up ahead, seeping into the pass through what must be the way out.

"Keep low," came Raphael's voice.

The pack did as he commanded and crouched, slowing and silencing their movements.

Jackson shivered in trepidation; he could feel his limbs freezing, urging him not to take another step, but he fought through it, following his packmates towards the end of the pass.

And when they reached it, Jackson froze in sheer horror.

The abandoned outpost was shrouded in the shadows cast by the mountains, but the ground beyond the fences was lit by moonlight, and there were at least a hundred cadejo trying to reach the piece of metal dangling from the inactive turbine. A revolting choir of snarls and groans stole the silence, coming from every direction, and the cadejo that weren't trying to attack the turbine were lurking around, dragging their twitching, rotting bodies around the perimeter.

Jackson followed beside Damon as Raphael led the pack past the singed shell of a vehicle and towards the crumbling guard tower. He couldn't help but fear that something was going to go wrong; what if a brick fell from the tower? What if the cadejo finally managed to silence the turbine and turned their attention to the outpost? Or what if there was something lingering in the dark waiting for them to leave the safety of the fence?