Whimpering Gray

Prologue

"Get going, Ulric! It won't be long now! Hilda urged, thin icy branches whipped her reddened face. Her breath fogged as she slipped through the snows and slick shale. Somewhere far off, the ocean's waves rolled savagely in with the oncoming storm but they muted against the beast's vicious screams.

Closer and closer and closer.

Ulric fell backwards. His weak legs unused to the adrenaline rush and crippling fear. His eyes stung with sweat and his body burned with whatever strange magic his mother pulsed through his veins. He could barely lift himself over the rocky ledges and shale littered slopes but she kept urging him on and on despite this. Only six days ago he swore he had died. Now he awoke in the wilds of Scotland, miles away from the Rendell holding south of here and the beast was chasing them.

Ulric had seen many of his people come and go in the half built castle in Rhodaria within that monster's jaws. How Albin Rendell got a hold of such a creature was only the stuff of rumors but he believed it to be straight from the dark reaches of Otherworld. Albin however always told the pagans that it was doing God's heavenly work as it only shredded up his kind.

Now he ran and ran, mostly tripping, but nonetheless he ran for his life. Behind him, scrabbling through the shale and panting, was the approaching beast that served the deluded would be king. Ulric dared not look back. He kept his eyes ahead, watching his mother struggle against the terrain and the whippy branches snapping back into his youthful face.

Somewhere hounds bayed eagerly. They were advancing from the higher side of the slope. Albin was going to surround them if they didn't make it to the shore in time. He reached for some hidden strength and hauled himself up another few ledges to catch up with his mother. She reached her hand out and he took it. His weight nearly tore her from her ledge. How much weight had he put on within six days? What had his mother done to him? Just six days ago before the arrow zipped his throat, he was a cripple and malnourished. His legs still needed adjusting but the beast wouldn't allow that.

Hilda was the only one taking glances behind her. She could see the beast was mostly obscured by the thick branches and rocky outcrops but it's endurance would catch up to them if they didn't stop. Aside from that, the hounds were smaller and faster, ripping through the trees with their echoing bellows. Either way, they'd be shredded up by one or the other. Right now it seemed the hounds would get that honour.

“Ulric, take the lead!” Hilda gasped and clutched his wrist.

She flung her son forward and yelled it again but Ulric stopped, shivering, teeth chattering. “No! I can't leave you!”

Hilda shoved him forward roughly, “Go!”

The hounds pawsteps could be heard now. Snapping twigs and jaws. Claws skittering across icy stone slabs. The beast could be heard huffing and hauling itself further up the snowy slopes, tearing carelessly through the bush. Below the raging sea bucked and rolled far below the cliff face. Ulric's instincts began to take over as he took a few steps back but a tendril of humanity took back over and he reached Hilda, took her wrist and pulled her along.

The slopes headed downward now. They leaped down a steep outcrop just as the hounds reached the top. Two of them skidded to a halt too late and flew over the edge, one missing the ledges altogether, plunging into the rocky sea and the other hit the very ledge Ulric scrambled onto, it's white head bouncing off with a sickening crack. The rest paced above them, trying to find footing onto the ledges to near them. Albin had surely bred determined hounds.

“Ulric, when we get down to the shore, put this on!” Hilda pulled a cloth case she had stuffed into the front of her dress, “Don't let them see your eyes!”