Greykin Mountain

| 11 | Separation

⥐ ⋞ ☽ ⋟ ⥐

A warm hand grasped Jackson's wrist.

          He gasped for air when he was yanked from his icy grave, and as striking white singed his eyes, he blinked rapidly, trying to vanquish the ice from them. When his sights cleared, he found himself staring up at Damon's concerned face. How long had he been under there?

          Before Jackson could thank him, a voice bellowed, "Over here!"

          Damon left him and raced over to two men shovelling at the snow with their hands alongside a dirt-brown wolf.

          Jackson dragged his stiff palms over his face, glancing around as his heart raced in his chest. Bitter fog ensnared the area he sat in, but it wasn't so thick that he couldn't see everyone currently searching and sniffing the frozen ground.

          But as he climbed to his feet, panicked commotion snatched his attention. He turned his head, setting his sights on a man and woman as they backed away from the hole they'd been digging. The rotting, mangled corpse of a cadejo burst from the depths, and as the people screamed, a grey and white wolf half the size of those Jackson had seen pounced at it. Then, with a furious snarl, Damon shifted into his white wolf and smashed into the zombie before it could sink its teeth into the small wolf.

          Watching, Jackson clasped his shirt, his legs trembling. The two wolves tore the creature apart, and as Damon held it down, he allowed the smaller wolf to tear the cadejo's heart out, almost as if he was teaching it how to kill.

          He stared at the small wolf for a moment, realizing that it looked a lot like Aysel and Damon—was it one of his sons?

          "Hurry up!" Damon called. "There are bound to be more below us, and it won't take long for others to pick up this one's scent."

          The wolves worked faster, sniffing around while the people continued shovelling.

          Jackson wanted to help, but the moment he took a step forward, Damon appeared in front of him. He gazed into the wolf's brown eyes as he stared back...but then, Damon unleashed a deafening roar, and just as it had the night before, it swiftly forced Jackson into the form of his brown-furred wolf.

          Damon spoke into his mind, "We're about to run. Make sure you're ready."

          Jackson nodded, his legs still shaking as he refamiliarized himself with standing on all fours. But as Damon went to walk off— "W-wait."

          He stopped.

          "Elias...he went down—d-did you find him?"

          "Not yet."

          "What about Tokala?"

          "No."

          Jackson scoured the group; he didn't see Aysel or any of those who had voted on whether he got to live or die. "Uh...Aysel?"

          That was when Damon turned his back on him and headed over to the group.

          Had he said something to upset the Alpha? Or...had Aysel...? No. If she were dead, surely Damon would be falling apart, right?

          "Here!" a man called.

          Everyone hurried over, and now that his fear had calmed a little, Jackson slowly wandered that way, too. He observed as two men pulled a bloody grey and blonde wolf from the snow; a horrific gash cut into its right side, and a flurry of Elias' name circled the group.