Chapter 9 Into the Mist
Into the Mist
Sorcha awoke and hastened to gather her things as she threw on yesterday’s pants and a shirt she recovered from the depths of her dresser. She was practically sprinting towards the tavern.
Drystan was the first to notice her arrival, flashing that ever annoying grin.
“Looks like you’re off to the Hollow,” he teased. “Don’t get lost in all that haze. If you do, call for me. I’m great at rescuing damsels in distress.”
Sorcha rolled her eyes as she strode toward their usual table. “Good thing I’m not a damsel. But I’ll let you know if the woods need rescuing.”
Across the room, Riona’s voice sang over the conversations. “Drystan, stop flirting and eat something before you collapse.”
Riona had already perfectly retied her snowy braid, making sure every strand was in place, as she sat. Her eyes followed Sorcha as she approached.
“About time,” Riona remarked, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I was starting to think I’d have to eat alone.”
Sliding into the seat across from her, Sorcha let the warm smell of bread and herbal tea soothe her nerves. The spread was simple, fresh butter, honeyed fruit, and steaming cups of tea.
“So,” Riona said, “we’re heading into the Hollow.” Sorcha’s hand hovered over her tea for a brief moment. The name alone stirred unease. The Hollow wasn’t just another part of the woods—it was old, untouched, a place even seasoned trackers hesitated to tread.
“Not exactly how I pictured starting the day,” Riona added, her tone light.
Sorcha leaned back, forcing a wry smile. “You mean you didn’t wake up hoping to wander into a cursed forest covered in unnatural mist?”
After breakfast, Commander Nethran summoned them to Skyfall Waters. A new recruit wearing an eager smile, delivered the message before darting off to the horse stalls. The Circle then gathered together, collecting their cloaks and weapons, and headed toward the square.
The morning air was crisp, and sunlight warm as they gathered beneath the towering falls.
Nethran stood tall, speaking sternly, “Here are your assignments,” he announced, holding a journal aloft.
“Remember, I need your reports at the end of each shift.” He then split them into groups, assigning each to different forest regions.
Mason and Emry were tasked with tracking creatures and cleaning up any carcasses, meticulously noting their locations.
Rhosyn and Drystan were to collect forest samples and document any observed changes.
Eirin was to interview hunters, take their statements, and record details about regions and towns.
Sorcha and Riona were assigned to patrol the outer edges of the hollow, where they inevitably had to venture.
As they began loading the horses, Mason and Emry approached.
Mason handed Sorcha the reins as she mounted. “Try not to hog all the excitement, alright?”
“What? And wait for you to catch up? Not likely,” she retorted.
Mason laughed. “Fair enough.”
As she was about to move her horse, Mason placed a hand on her leg. “Seriously, be careful out there; things have been different lately.”
Sorcha covered his hand with her own, nodding. “You too, okay?”
He stepped back as she urged her horse forward.
Emry was whispering something to Riona, his voice low and close to her ear.
Sorcha saw a faint blush creep onto Riona’s face before Emry stepped back.
Riona swung into the stirrup and mounted Briar.
Mason and Emry turned and rode off, their horses at an easy trot.
The rhythmic clopping of hooves echoed against the stone paths, mingling with the distant sounds of Lumora waking.
As Sorcha and Riona rode out, the familiar warmth of the fields gave way to dense woodland.
The open blue sky narrowed under a thick canopy of towering trees, the path twisting like a serpent through the underbrush.
Vibrant greens faded to muted hues, shadows stretching unnaturally beneath the branches.
A sudden chill permeated the air as sunlight struggled to pierce the dense fog that clung to the ground.
Riona rode beside Sorcha, but as the darkness crept in, Riona struggled to hide her nerves.
Sorcha spoke in a whisper. “Stay alert. The Hollow is known for its illusions.” Riona shifted in her saddle, gripping the reins tighter.
The horses’ hooves softened against the forest floor, muffled by the thick moss below them.
The further they rode, the more muted the world became.
At long last they reached the Hollow’s threshold.
Sorcha pulled the reins back to halt her horse.
Shadow let out a huff through his nostrils followed by a loud whinny.
The horses refused to settle down, nervously pacing as Sorcha dismounted, then Riona.
Sorcha led the horses to the sturdy branch of a hawthorn tree, tying them with just enough slack to allow them to escape if necessary.
Side by side, they stepped toward the woods.
The ground felt soft beneath their boots, muffled like everything else in the Hollow.
The silence stretched for a moment before the whisper of steps reached their ears.
A rustling sound ahead, not from wind but something unseen that stirred just beyond the trees.