The Ivory Killer (DISCONTINUED)

-Chapter Four- Merhedith

Hi! This chapter was honestly a pain to write. I had two weeks to get it done, got hit with a wave of writer's block, and didn't start until yesterday afternoon -_-. I have three drafts of this chapter, and this one finally made it to the book! I think I might like writing from Aron's POV a bit more, but as the story develops, that could change. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes/typos; I didn't edit as much as I wanted. On with the story!

Entering the forest was like passing through a barrier and walking into a whole new world. The peaceful silence of the night rang through the tall, leafy trees, while wind tickled their branches. An owl soared overhead and fireflies flickered in the warm air. A nearly full moon shone overhead, bathing the forest in a milky glow. The gentle hiss of shrubbery swaying in the breeze was soothing, especially after the chaotic day regarding Karter's disappearance.

But, along with the relaxing rhythm of nature came mosquitoes. So many mosquitoes.

I swatted one of said insects away from my face, preventing it from flying straight up my nose. Seconds later, I repeated the action, while squishing one on my forearm. Disgusting. While the perks of patrol were many, from getting a chance to think to protecting your home, mosquitoes were high on the list of cons.

The patrol line I was following weaved carefully in between trees, skillfully hidden by the natural flora of the land. Years of patrol had beaten down the path to just a small dirt road, only big enough for one person. So, as I marched along the line, which encircled our safe-city, I allowed my mind to wander. Though the mosquitoes provided a formidable distraction, the thoughts that weighed on my mind were far greater than that of a few winged insects.

It was established that Karter had indeed disappeared. Every inch of our city had been searched. Every home had been scoured. Even basements and bunkers had been checked, and there was still no sign of our cartographer.

Jarad's patrols had returned with no news of Karter. They had reported back to me as soon as the sun had started to dip, and they all looked exhausted. I couldn't blame them, either. Everyone knew Karter. His level-headed personality was just the right thing anyone needed after a hard day, and, if he wasn't feeling level-headed that specific day, he made really good stew. Absolutely no one could say no to stew and a calming attitude. Once I saw the dejected faces of Jarad's patrol return to me, I knew that they were taking it just as hard as everyone else. It hurt to imagine how Karter's wife must be taking the news, and it hurt even more as I remembered that they had a child on the way.

Jarad has said that the patrols were allowed to search just a little bit beyond the patrol line, not much farther from where I was. As a cartographer, Karter had a few more freedoms than the rest of the city. He was allowed to explore the surrounding areas, but never too far from the village. Every time he went out to sketch and draw the land, he was to do it as safely as possible, but even those limits didn't work. He was still taken.

Then, if he was taken, where were his things? I imagined Karter with his blond, bordering on red, hair tied at the nape of his neck, like he usually wore it. He would find a spot and start his sketch, even though he had probably already drawn that area multiple times. The best he could do for his maps was updating them every few months to keep them accurate to the present. He would occasionally swipe the stray hairs from his ponytail out of his eyes, revealing his lightly freckled face. Karter was never very good with magic, but still had some capacity for the skill, like all mages do. That's why he didn't have very many freckles; his lack of magical practices. In the end, he was the best man for the job. Cartography wasn't magically taxing at all, so it fit well with his creative, yet magically declined, mind. But, cartography required supplies, like ink and pens and paper, and those things required a carrier of some sort, whether it be a haversack or a simple bag. If he was taken, where were his things? Surly, his captors would just take what they came for and leave, right?