Hunted [Wild Hunt Series: 1]

23: Comes the Bay

Beneath jagged lightning and blistering, distant strikes, the forest came alive as if possessed. Branches swung wildly through the air. The trees groaned and rocked against the wind. The earth was heavy with the scent of mud and, as the path twisted through the serpentine trunks, there came occasionally the drifting scent of blackened wood and smoke. Dakota's voice had gone silent, though there was another sound rocking the quaking forest, or perhaps it was an echo knocking through my mind, disconcerting and familiar but utterly unplacable.

Wary though I was of the gigantic mole creature, if it weren't for that ravished path I might've lost Dakota. Long stretches of torn roots broke beneath the occasional eruption of dark soil and rich deposits, tiny flecks of glittering minerals washed away in the steady deluge. The creature's massive claws left gashes in the soil wherever it had surfaced, and mud filled the deep, dark holes I dared to peer into. While the ground beneath my feet had long ceased to vibrate, I had a feeling it wasn't because the harpy had carried Dakota off far. I tilted my face into the smacking rain. Not in this weather. They had to be close.

What they were, was about a mile down from where the mole had previously surfaced. The terrain here thickened with the stench of a mire and loose footholds, but along the fringe of deadened plants and smoking, storm-blistered trees, rose a winding series of cliffs. The mole must've given up the chase here, because even I had a difficult time slogging through about fifty meters of blackened, heavy muck to reach the rocky base and take a rest on moss-ridden stones. The stout cliffs were made of yellowed stone swirled with deposits of some white substance that flaked away without hardly any effort.

From a distance I'd spotted the cave outlined by leafless branches, high up. I even thought, for just a second, that'd I'd glimpsed the shadow of something pale and human staring out at the dim expanse.

I managed to wedge myself against a small overhang forty feet below the cave's approximate location, drawing my legs to my chest to try and stay- well, soaked. There wasn't much of a point, really, except to keep from having to wipe water off my forehead every other second. I caught my breath here, staring out at the thankless skies as tarnished clouds billowed past the few trees left standing at the swamp's beginning.

The cliffs- not exactly tall they were. As I waited out the weather it became increasingly obviously, the more I stared at that long ascent with the flaking stone, that it might be easier to drop down from above in the night, that I might be able to fix some vines to a boulder of something and repel down ten feet or so to the entrance.

Evening dropped like a sudden curtain, bringing the storm's light show into what I hoped was the grand finale as I finished the ties on my hastily hewn collection of roots and vines. At the top of the cliffs, where shrubs and stones were the only thing to stop the wind from knocking me away, all I had left was to secured it best I could and wait for the right (AKA: the rain to stop pouring in sheets over the slippery edge) moment to climb down. By then I was hungry, exhausted, and not in the mood for a fight, but the faint voices that came through the cave -jumbled words, heard faintly, like that cry on the end of the wind- the faint voices gave me hope.

The storm abandoned the mire somewhere around midnight. Warm fog drifted up from the boggy landscape. The voices had been quiet for a long time now. All I heard was the drip of water from leaves and lonely, whistling gusts. I'd wrapped up my "rope" good and tight around the thickest shrub I could find. Testing the security with several strong tugs, I backed up toward the cliff and took a deep breath.

There was nothing but the night over my shoulder, stars and fog and the burble of an awakening swamp. With my heels pressed into the slick stone, I tested the strength on final time, then leaned back and began the descent. Almost immediately my fingers slid against the hairy vines and knotted roots. The rope creaked and rubbed against the stone as gravity tugged at my weight. I didn't climb so much as slid down in a frightful rush, bouncing hard against the cave's entrance. The rope swung left and I let go, landing hard on my ass.