They travelled further into the woods, bumping and bouncing along while Carly clutched her seat belt as though her life depended upon it. Eventually, the vegetation grew far too thick for the jeep, trees growing closely and the undergrowth become wilder. Ian stopped the jeep and turned off the engine. He and Carly then walked the rest of the way.
"How far is it?" Carly asked, taking care not to trip over the sprawl of tree roots, her sneakers squelching against the muddy forest floor.
"A bit farther. You'll need to climb a little to reach the cemetery"
Sure enough, the ground grew steeper; rock jutting out of the slop. Carly had to grip overhead branches and lean against tree trunks to keep herself from tumbling over.
"Need some help?" Ian asked, gracefully inching back down so that he was closer to her. She saw him smirking as he held out his hand. "I can carry you if you want. What kind of a mate would I be if I couldn't do that much?"
Carly slapped his hand away. "I'm not your mate dammit." She flared up. "And I can climb up there on my own, thank you very much."
She took a step further up the slope to make her point, followed by another. But she was moving too fast and not watching where she was going. A rock came loose under foot, tumbling away. With her balance disturbed, Carly wobbled precariously, her arms waving in circles. It was only thanks to Ian's assistance that she did not topple over and roll down the scree , his arm looping around her waist to steady her.
"Should have let me carry you." He chided. Carly recoiled in his grasp, freeing herself at once and shooting up the remainder of the slope. This time however, she dared not slip.
The scree leveled off at the top, giving away to a grassy plain. Taking a moment to catch her breath, it was only when Ian tapped her lightly on the shoulder did she look up to see where she was.
The cemetery was not unlike a human one. Stone monoliths and tombs rising out of the vegetation like a small city, crumbling in places were lichen had not reached. The stone were varying shades of grey, their textures defined by how old they were. The older graves were either blackened or moss covered, their writing lost to time. With clouds hanging low, the shroud of white mist added to the eerie, deathly silence of the cemetery.
The shuffles of their steps were loud as they made their way through the rows of tombs, exploring the site. Where there were no tombs, they found slender obelisks etched with writing and statues chiseled into the shapes of wolves standing guard at various intervals, their ears and snouts sometimes missing. The statues themselves had rectangular niches cut into their stomach area. Ian stopped by one of the eroded wolves and bent down, producing a small packaged wrapped in paper from his pocket.
Carly watched with fascination as he proceeded to arrange an assortment of items within the niche; half a wish bone, flower petals and a ball of clay. He then put his thumb to his lips and bit it, drawing blood. Ian smeared the blood over the wolf's snout and murmured a quick prayer under his breath before rising to rejoin Carly.
"What was that just now?" Carly asked curiously.
"A little ritual werewolves must perform when entering a cemetery." He explained. "It's a sign of respect for our ancestors, as well as a prayer for them to guide all werewolves into the afterlife.
The bone represents an offering to appease the spirits. The flower petals–jasmine–are said help guide werewolves into paradise. The ball of clay tells the spirit which territory and pack you belong to. Finally, the blood is to seal the prayer between yourself and the spirits."
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Payne's Hollow
वेरवुल्फ़In the mountains surrounding Payne's Hollow, the Payne Pack tells the tale of a legend. They speak of the king among men and a god among werewolves ; Jerald Payne. Although he has long been dead his legacy lives on, as does his spirit. It roams the...
