Greykin Mountain

| 3 | Retrace

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Jackson wished last night would be a haze—he hoped it was just a nightmare, but it wasn't. It had happened. All of it. He'd turned into a creature, killed that innocent man, and raced through the woods like the very animal he'd almost lost his life to.

          The beast he'd become had retreated behind his real body, but his clothes were gone, and he had no idea where he was. As the sun grew higher into the sky, he finished cleaning the dried blood from his tawny brown skin and left the small river behind. He trekked aimlessly through the snowy woods, constantly checking behind him for the creature that attacked him yesterday. But there wasn't a single sound out here this morning.

          Each snowflake that fell around him melted within an inch of his burning body—he no longer felt the cold, but that didn't relieve him. This wasn't right; how was this real? Part of him wanted to convince himself this was all some trippy experience—maybe this new environment was having a freaky effect on his brain—but he wasn't that naïve.

          No. This was real.

          What was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to go? He had no idea where he was. Wherever he looked, all that lay before him were trees, mountains, and snow. He didn't recall which direction he'd come from, and whenever he tried to remember, all he could see was Daniel's mangled body.

          Is this what happened to the others who had come to Ascela? Had they been attacked in Greykin's mountains just like he had? A conflicted frown struck his face when he reached the treeline; he stopped walking and stared ahead. The mountains stretched as far as his eyes could see, and behind him, the forest continued for just as long. He desperately searched for something he recognized or something that might jog his memory, but all the daunting white gave him was a deep feeling of hopelessness.

          He was never going to find his way back. He'd never find the people he'd come here for, and if he didn't starve to death first, he was sure another rotting, crazed animal would burst out of the woods and kill him.

          With a frustrated huff, he sat down in the snow and buried his head in his arms, which he rested on his knees. This was it. He was giving up. Why waste his breath aimlessly walking around when he could just wait for his end to find him?

          Something sickening then brewed in his stomach. He couldn't give up. Was it really that bad? He wasn't dead, was he? No...he'd just turned into a savage creature and torn a man apart with his teeth.

          He scoffed at himself and leaned his head back against the tree behind him. As he dragged his hand over his forehead, he tried his best to make a choice. Sit here and wait to die or get up off his ass and try to find sense in all of this. Rotting wolf creatures, him turning into a beast—if this was what had happened to the people he was looking for, he had to find out. They deserved that. Maybe surviving this was some sort of message—he'd seen first-hand what had happened, and now, he had to make sure he found the victims Greykin managed to claim.

          Jackson sighed away his defeatist thoughts and pulled himself to his feet. It wasn't over yet.

          He left the cover of the trees and continued through the snow. If only he knew how to read the time by simply glancing at the sun, he might know how long he'd been walking.

          Eventually, he found a hill and followed it down. He'd trekked up one the day before yesterday, so heading down felt like the right way to go. And to his immediate relief, when the snow started to calm, he set his eyes on smoke climbing into the sky. Someone was over the ridge up ahead.