Chapter 4 Hunted
The Northern Mountains
Rowena and the Dissolver traveled east through the night, using the stars as their guide.
They had to choose between two treacherous routes.
Traveling south through the forest and plains would make for easier passage to Goldhaven, but risked running into the army that destroyed their village.
The other option was to head east through the mountains, then south into Goldhaven. This path was longer but offered obscurity, helping them lose any pursuers.
They chose the mountain path. The threat of running into the army was slim, but the mountains themselves were treacherous.
After only a few hours, heavy clouds swallowed the moon and stars. The air turned colder. Delicate snowflakes began to collect on their cheeks, and the wind whistled through the trees, numbing their fingers.
They spotted a jagged crevasse and hurried inside, covering the entrance with pine boughs to block the worst of the wind. Without a fire, they huddled beneath the rough cloaks Rowena had salvaged from the ruined village.
Still, the cold seeped in, making their teeth chatter.
Their sleep was restless, broken by constant shivering and the eerie sound of distant wolves echoing through the night.
By morning, they awoke stiff and shivering, muscles aching. Their breath rose in pale clouds as they scraped together the thin snow that had drifted inside, eating it slowly to moisten their parched mouths.
With empty stomachs, they searched the rocks and sparse brush for any sign of food, roots, berries, even insects, but found nothing.
As the sun rose higher, its weak warmth brought slight relief, coaxing patches of green from beneath the snow and making the mountain air feel a little less cruel.
By day's end, exhaustion tugged at their limbs and gnawed at their bellies. Near a craggy outcropping, Rowena spotted some sharp stones and, after searching, found a piece of flint.
That night, after many tries, they managed to spark a small fire. Flames danced and crackled. For the first time since leaving the village, they felt a glimmer of comfort as they wrapped themselves in their cloaks and watched the fire glow against the dark mountainside.
The Dissolver noticed Rowena wasn't struggling with pain anymore.
"How is your wound?" he asked.
Rowena blinked in surprise. "Actually, I'd quite forgotten about it," she admitted. "Strange-it doesn't hurt anymore."
The Dissolver hesitated. "Are you going to look at it?"
Rowena shook her head. "No. I don't want to expose the wound-not in these conditions. It might get infected. Hopefully tomorrow we'll find a stream so I can wash it."
The mention of infection made the Dissolver worry, but he trusted her. Suddenly, his stomach growled, and he gripped it tenderly.
"I'm so hungry..." he murmured.
Rowena squeezed his arm. "Perhaps we'll find food tomorrow. For now, let's try to get some rest."
The Dissolver nodded, rubbing his sleepy eyes. But before they could settle in, a distant howl pierced the darkness-then several more.
They froze, listening as tension grew, their mood darkening.
Rowena remembered facing enormous dire wolves in her early years in the mountains. The villagers once used fire to keep them at bay, but the wolves grew accustomed to it. Fire was no longer effective.
The wolves would stalk the area, picking off anyone who strayed. Only after discovering fire thistle were the villagers able to drive them away.
The memories made Rowena's stomach twist.
Wolves weren't the only danger.
They also had to watch for bears, mountain trolls, or worse, a yeti.
"We need to sleep in shifts from now on," Rowena said solemnly. "You get some sleep. I'll take first watch."
The next day, they continued on, sleepy and on edge.
The next three days blurred into a haze of exhaustion and vigilance. Hunger gnawed at them, each step heavier than the last.
By day, they moved constantly, alert for any sign of game or danger. By night, they found what shelter they could, curling together for warmth and taking turns sleeping.
Every dusk, distant howls crept closer, threading through the darkness.
A constant reminder they were being hunted.
Rowena's nerves frayed more with each passing day.
She didn't know when the wolves might attack, but she and the Dissolver would be no match for a pack.
During her night watch, Rowena fashioned spears from tree limbs and tried to form a plan.
She vowed that if they were found, the Dissolver would escape with the weapon.
Even if it meant sacrificing herself.
On the third night, a brutal cold front swept down from the peaks. Swirling snow and wind cut through their clothes like knives. They hurried to lash together a crude lean-to from stripped branches and soggy pine needles.
Rowena slept, huddled in the shelter. The Dissolver crouched at the entrance, feeding scraps of wood into the fire, his hands numb and trembling.
Outside, the darkness was thick. Every sound was amplified by the hush of falling snow.
The Dissolver's eyelids drooped, but every time he drifted off, a rustle or snap sent his heart racing. Shadows flickered at the edge of the firelight. He gripped his spear.
Suddenly, a guttural snarl split the silence just beyond the firelight. He froze, wide awake, hoping it was just exhaustion playing tricks. Then came the unmistakable sound of shuffling paws in the snow-heavy panting all around.
"Rowena!" the Dissolver whispered frantically, shaking her shoulder.
Rowena awoke with a jolt, heart pounding with dread.
A guttural growl rumbled beyond their shelter.
She acted quickly, grabbing a burning stick from the fire and tossing it into the darkness. A wounded whimper, then the frantic patter of retreating paws. Rowena's stomach clenched with terror.
The wolves had found them.
They'd run out of time.