First Elayra would step, and then Ghent would. Eventually, their steps fell into a predictable, repetitive pattern.
Ghent kept a diligent eye on their surroundings, craning his head back every so often to see if a tichari happened to be trailing along behind them. The irregular flickers of light tricked him several times, but nothing was there. His efforts were in vain.
The teenagers continued to trudge ahead. The silence offered a void for conversation, but Ghent didn't say a word. His mention of Frank's Book Barn had him thinking back to the world he left behind.
I should've said goodbye. He could no longer focus on their task. His thoughts blinded him to his surroundings. The moan of a ghost sounded dangerously close, prompting him to quicken his pace. They'll never know what happened to me.
It wasn’t long before Ghent's muscles began to protest against Drust’s weight. His arms tingled past the elbow, a staticky feeling soon followed by numbness. Slowly but surely, the knight slipped closer to the ground.
Grumbling something unintelligible about books, Ghent braced his knee against Drust's upper back. He fixed his arms around him again, hoping to prevent the man from hitting the ground. For a while, he managed. Drust slipped again.
Finally, Ghent had to admit defeat. He needed a break.
"I t-think I need a sec," he announced, startled by how loud yet pathetic his words sounded. He couldn't seem to master the art of keeping his voice down, nor could he hide how terrified he was to be in such a horrible place.
Thankfully, Elayra didn't deny him a moment to rest. Relieved of his burden, Ghent gave his arms a chance to regain feeling. He remained put, silent as he observed Elayra pace. The pacing wasn't of someone who was impatient, but nervous.
Shivering involuntarily, Ghent adverted his gaze. Elayra was scared, and so was he.
After what felt an eternity to Ghent, he felt Elayra stop. Without being told, he eased Drust to the ground and plopped down to sit alongside him. Ghent was sore, tired, and discouraged. Not a tichari in sight.
As Elayra demanded his attention, he sat up straighter, shoulders slumping at the news. He didn’t want to imagine Hollow Forest at night. Daytime was bad enough.
“That’s just great,” he sighed, his eyes following along the line of looming trees. They looked like all the others. If not for the vines on the ground, he would have thought they traveled in a perfect circle. “Isn’t there some way to bribe one of them into coming out?”
Before he got an answer, Drust seemed to stir. Fearing for his life, Ghent scrambled to regain his footing and practically dove behind Elayra for protection.
“He seriously needs to stop doing that!” he hissed, peering around his human shield. Drust didn't seem far from waking up. “That’s the sixth time! I've counted!” He did indeed count, for every time Drust threatened to move, Ghent felt himself age ten years.
Shaking like a leaf, he turned to face Elayra as she approached. As usual, the girl held something sharp, but this time the sharp end was pointed away from him. Slow to understand what the gesture meant, Ghent waited for clarification.
“W-wait, really?” Despite his earlier request for a weapon, Ghent didn’t actually believe he would be given one, and definitely not one from Elayra’s personal arsenal. He looked the weapon over with curiosity, reaching to accept it.
"Why the heck would I try to kill him?" Ghent drew his hand away, aghast. Even in self defense, he couldn’t imagine killing the knight. He didn’t think himself mentally or physically capable.
His eyes shifted back to Drust. He could have sworn he saw him stir for the seventh time.
“L-look, I promise, okay?” Impatient and panicked, Ghent motioned for her to surrender the dagger. “I won’t hurt myself, and I won’t kill him. I swear!”
Ghent kept a diligent eye on their surroundings, craning his head back every so often to see if a tichari happened to be trailing along behind them. The irregular flickers of light tricked him several times, but nothing was there. His efforts were in vain.
The teenagers continued to trudge ahead. The silence offered a void for conversation, but Ghent didn't say a word. His mention of Frank's Book Barn had him thinking back to the world he left behind.
I should've said goodbye. He could no longer focus on their task. His thoughts blinded him to his surroundings. The moan of a ghost sounded dangerously close, prompting him to quicken his pace. They'll never know what happened to me.
It wasn’t long before Ghent's muscles began to protest against Drust’s weight. His arms tingled past the elbow, a staticky feeling soon followed by numbness. Slowly but surely, the knight slipped closer to the ground.
Grumbling something unintelligible about books, Ghent braced his knee against Drust's upper back. He fixed his arms around him again, hoping to prevent the man from hitting the ground. For a while, he managed. Drust slipped again.
Finally, Ghent had to admit defeat. He needed a break.
"I t-think I need a sec," he announced, startled by how loud yet pathetic his words sounded. He couldn't seem to master the art of keeping his voice down, nor could he hide how terrified he was to be in such a horrible place.
Thankfully, Elayra didn't deny him a moment to rest. Relieved of his burden, Ghent gave his arms a chance to regain feeling. He remained put, silent as he observed Elayra pace. The pacing wasn't of someone who was impatient, but nervous.
Shivering involuntarily, Ghent adverted his gaze. Elayra was scared, and so was he.
After what felt an eternity to Ghent, he felt Elayra stop. Without being told, he eased Drust to the ground and plopped down to sit alongside him. Ghent was sore, tired, and discouraged. Not a tichari in sight.
As Elayra demanded his attention, he sat up straighter, shoulders slumping at the news. He didn’t want to imagine Hollow Forest at night. Daytime was bad enough.
“That’s just great,” he sighed, his eyes following along the line of looming trees. They looked like all the others. If not for the vines on the ground, he would have thought they traveled in a perfect circle. “Isn’t there some way to bribe one of them into coming out?”
Before he got an answer, Drust seemed to stir. Fearing for his life, Ghent scrambled to regain his footing and practically dove behind Elayra for protection.
“He seriously needs to stop doing that!” he hissed, peering around his human shield. Drust didn't seem far from waking up. “That’s the sixth time! I've counted!” He did indeed count, for every time Drust threatened to move, Ghent felt himself age ten years.
Shaking like a leaf, he turned to face Elayra as she approached. As usual, the girl held something sharp, but this time the sharp end was pointed away from him. Slow to understand what the gesture meant, Ghent waited for clarification.
“W-wait, really?” Despite his earlier request for a weapon, Ghent didn’t actually believe he would be given one, and definitely not one from Elayra’s personal arsenal. He looked the weapon over with curiosity, reaching to accept it.
"Why the heck would I try to kill him?" Ghent drew his hand away, aghast. Even in self defense, he couldn’t imagine killing the knight. He didn’t think himself mentally or physically capable.
His eyes shifted back to Drust. He could have sworn he saw him stir for the seventh time.
“L-look, I promise, okay?” Impatient and panicked, Ghent motioned for her to surrender the dagger. “I won’t hurt myself, and I won’t kill him. I swear!”
