Page 19 of In The Dark

We entered the Twin Valley a couple of hours ago, but we plan on pushing through in order to make it to Sylvanor by tomorrow afternoon. It’s a valley I’ve only been in one other time and although beautiful, it’s a bad place to get stuck in with only two exits—forward and where you came.

Luckily for me, I haven’t had any more intrusive thoughts of Alec’s voice in my head since Alvonia, having chalked it up to stress and failure over this mission.

Large intimidating trees surround the area, offering heavy coverage other than the frequently traveled path that we’re currently on. Ren travels ahead to ensure nothing is lying in wait, acting like bait if anything wants to come out of hiding.

“I think we can make it. We don’t need to stop in the valley this close to the town,” Ezra says, looking completely unfazed in this heat, which is ridiculous. How can he look like that on a horse in midday and not be sweating profusely?

“Well, I won’t.” I glare at him. “We can handle ourselves. If we don’t rest soon, you’re going to get a boot right up your?—”

Bjorn halts, shuffling his feet only for Freya to mimic his movements half a second later. Both horses are huffing in agitation, swinging their heads. Ezra and I share a quick glance while Ren continues to ride ahead about half a mile.

We scan the surrounding area. The mountains and trees rest on either side of us, though there’s nothing for miles, but I can sense it. It’s one of those rare cases where I can hone in on the feeling. My body begins to hum with energy.

I glance at Ezra, putting a finger to my lips, when he looks down and motions at the footprints below us.

“Grokees,” he whispers.

“Fuck,” I say. Just what we need in the smoldering heat—Grokees.

They’re the most grotesque creature in our realm, which is pretty much how they got their name, typically found in the Twin Valley. Giant wolves that are five feet tall at the shoulder and missing fur and skin, with exposed bone. It makes me shudder just thinking about them.

We haven’t figured out why they look that way or what happened, but we think it’s a deformity or a sickness. Whatever they are, they become incredibly aggressive and will attack at any chance they get. And I’m definitely not in the mood to deal with withering, dying creatures.

The hair on my neck rises, and with a deep breath, I force my heart rate to slow despite the rush of adrenaline. My eyes lock with Ezra’s as we slowly grab our bows and put our horses into walks. We begin to slowly move forward, but within a heartbeat, three Grokees launch at us on our right.

“Now!” Ezra shouts, both of us shooting an arrow at the same time and hitting the first one in each eye.

“Why do you always aim for mine?” I shout as our horses frantically trot in place.

“I saw it first!”

Ren suddenly swivels around, gripping the reins and turning his horse. He races toward us, grabbing his bow in the process.

Nocking another arrow, I aim for the next one as we both launch our horses forward. Trusting Bjorn to run straight, I pivot in the saddle and catch the second one in the shoulder. It doesn’t go down. Ren’s determined eyes lock onto one behind me just as he launches his arrow, hitting it before I can reload.

Thank the Fates his aim has always been great.

“Isa, behind you!” Ezra shouts.

Within seconds, the third one launches itself at me and latches onto my right shoulder. It throws me off Bjorn with such a force that the breath forcefully escapes my lungs.

Ezra’s horse continues to gallop ahead when I land, smacking my head against the ground so hard that stars dance across my eyes. I fight to keep my eyes open and focused as its snapping jaws are inches from my face. I’m pinned by its feet with my forearm against its throat, preventing it from ripping my face off.

Gods, it’s drooling on me.

Its beady eyes are glossed over, as if there’s nothing there but aggression and hunger. I cry out as my right fist drives into its ribs, but when I pull it back, my hand is coated in fur and flesh. I gag.

It smells awful—like it’s decaying.

The stench of it almost makes me retch, but I’m able to free my right hand enough to get it to my ribs and grip a dagger. I shove it in its chest with enough force that it instantly stops moving and lays all of its dead weight on me.

My eyes water from the smell as I turn my head, gasping forair. But Ezra and Ren come running, shoving it off me a moment later.

“Are you okay?” Ezra breathes. He shields his face with his elbow in an attempt to stifle the smell.At least he’s finally sweating. “I thought you were dead by the way that thing latched on. Let me see your shoulder.”

I sit up with a cry of pain as my adrenaline fades, leaving my right shoulder burning. Luckily, whatever infection they carry isn’t transmittable to Fae or humans, so their bites—though nasty—are harmless.

Still, it fucking hurts.