Page 74 of In The Dark

“Why did we stop?” I whisper, gripping the dagger that’s secured to my thigh, palming the hilt. I’m confused as to why we would be stopping in the middle of the road when it clearly doesn’t end for miles. My stomach twists.

Then he begins to whisper something I don’t understand, murmuring under his breath, looking above and into the trees.

I pivot, my brows pinching as I’m suddenly drawn in by the curve of his lips while he speaks—precise and fluid. Then a shimmer of what must have been a glamour begins to fade, rippling across and outward, revealing a hidden home.

Tucked neatly into the forest is a unique cottage built into a large tree on our right. With the door being regularly sized, I begin to wonder how someone could live in a place so small.

“We’ve arrived,” he says and hops down, offering me his hand.

I look down and then back to his face as he arches a brow, leaving me to sigh and sheathe my dagger. My stomach flutters. I slip my hand in his and swing my leg over. Rydian’s hands slide up my waist to steady me, leaving me to sharply inhale.

“Stay close, little fawn. There are creatures nearby, but don’t be alarmed.” His breath grazes the shell of my ear.

We walk through the glamour, and then it conceals us like a cloak again. I reach my hand for his, despite feeling ridiculous, and tuck myself into his side. I scowl at the thought of those creatures as my eyes graze the area.

Thingscreep me out, especially Grokees. After that nasty bite in the Twin Valley, I don’t plan on revisiting a wound that took two days to recover from.

Rydian glances down with a smirk, our hands still joined. Scowling, I drop his hand and step to the left, falling into step behind him.

“Where are we?” I mutter under my breath.

“Milena’s home. Heavily glamoured to turn away anyone who ventures too close. Bess informed me that once the horse stops and we feel the need to turn around, we’ve arrived. But I had only gone so far, so I didn’t know what to expect.”

“She lives in a tree?” I ask.

I’m not convinced this isn’t a hoax. Who in their right mind would live in a tree? Stopping just outside the wooden door, Rydian knocks as I look up. And up. It just keeps going.

The tree swallows the sky above us, not a cloud in sight. It’s eerily quiet as we wait. The only sound is our breathing and the soft breeze that slips through the trees.

My eyes flick over the area again, searching for anything indicating a presence. With a glance down, I notice a disturbance in the mud and take a step back, eyeing the footprints beneath my feet.

Massive—easily twice the size of my hands—and I quickly notice a path around the tree. Curiosity tugs at me, eyes fixed on the ground as I move left, carefully trailing the large footprints. My steps remain quiet and light, not daring to disturb the leaves as I begin to round the tree.

“Isa,” Rydian whispers, but I brush him off with a wave of my hand. My braid falls to my left as I look over my shoulder, meeting his gaze with a small grin—a look warning me to stay nearby while we wait.

“I found prints,” I say on a breath.

Rydian stiffens, shoulders going rigid as his eyes widen, shadows instantly forming in his palms. I halt dead in my tracks, a dagger already in my palm.

I feel it first and then hear it—the hot breath and growl emanating from the creature beside me. Breathing down my neck, blowing pieces of hair across my face with a menacing growl.

I stand frozen, mirroring Rydian as we stare at each other. My eyes squeeze shut. I’m begging the thing to not eat my face off as I inhale, willing my bodynotto run.

Don’t run. Don’t run. Don’t run.

“If you run… I will eat you,”it warns me in a tone so low that it raises the hair on my arms. Oh my gods, it spoke to me.

“I see you’ve met my wonderful companion,” a stern female voice says.

I’m too frightened to breathe, afraid I’ll cause the thing to lunge for my throat, given its mouth so close to my neck. Islowly turn, facing the creature and the female beside it, eyeing what has Rydian so paralyzed with fear. I’m met with the largest Howler I’ve ever seen.

One of the ancient wolves, where Grokees originate from.

Only Grokees are sick.

This one still has all of its fur and flesh, somehow making it more terrifying. Its controlled anger chills me far more than that of a Grokee, where I can anticipate its rage and hunger.

The Howler’s sharp canines are four inches long, its tongue tucked inside its mouth as it snarls in my face, deep and low in warning. Its fur is a deep gray with a white undercoat, eyes a shade of gold, reminding me of a wildfire.