Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
My legs were screaming in no time. I sucked in air and dripped sweat all down my face and onto my shirt. Our basajaun kept looking at my feet, but I didn’t care if I was being incredibly loud. Once we reached the top, the wide trail flattened out before dipping into the trees and descending. That was when the trail shrank to the width it had been earlier—on the side of the mountain again with a sheer face less than a misstep away.
“Oh, perfect,” I said, still breathing heavily and now wiping my face. I couldn’t spare the energy to heal myself just yet. “Another one of these death trails.” I puffed out more air and tried my best to step carefully with my burning leg muscles. The vertigo was back in force as I peered over the side. “If there’s an earthquake, we’re all going to fall right off this mountain.”
“She is very concerned with falling and mortality,” the basandere called back, probably talking to our basajaun.
“For the record, I’m also concerned with mortality, and I’ve never been amazing with heights,” Sebastian said. “This isn’t my favorite adventure so far.”
This trail was similar to the first in that it wound down to the bottom of the mountain, but the switchbacks were more frequent and the descent mild in comparison. It wasn’t until we reached the bottom and passed through a gap between the mountains and over a lazily moving stream that the magic of the area presented itself.
“Wow,” someone said from the front of the line. Someone else whistled.
Twisted branches littered the bank by the stream, which wound alongside a wider, packed dirt trail. Thick redwood trees shot into the sky all around, nudging the trail one way and then another. The sound of flowing water mixed with the twittering of birds and snickering of crickets. Ferns and clover once again filled in the gaps between the trees. A strange sense of peace and contentment flowed over me. The vibe in this area felt good, like the trees were giving us a gentle embrace. The canopy dimmed the light and made the air pleasantly cool.
“This is beautiful,” I said with a release of breath.
The mountains rose on both sides of us, but I didn’t feel trapped. A mossy slope rose on my left before falling away.
Austin fell back and took my hand, entwining our fingers. I felt his serenity through the bonds. They must’ve released the challenge to him. The others kept looking around as they walked, taking it all in.
The paths were all wide here, and well traveled. Cut and polished logs crisscrossed the edge to keep people from falling, and I wondered why they hadn’t applied the practice to the hell trails we’d been forced to take.
I didn’t see any huts or dwellings as we continued on, but there were plenty of firepits, small, charred circles in cleared spaces. Rustic wooden cups sat on rocks, and baskets had been left out or staked up. Occasionally, I saw a piece of pottery—a plate or bowl.
The feeling of being watched again tingled my senses. I sent out the spell Sebastian had used earlier. There were basajaunak all around, standing beside trees or pushed back a little from the firepits I’d discovered. Their magic was incredible, allowing them to literally hide in plain sight. All of them, too, not just those with higher power. It was similar to how gargoyles blended into buildings, I guessed. The same type of magic in a vastly different setting.
“He will show you to your fire,” the basandere said, gesturing toward our basajaun. The basajaunak waited for the shifters to regain their human forms and then handed back their packs. “We were told that you will not require assistance with hunting. Fishing might be an issue for you, and so we will provide fish, should you require it. Tomorrow, we will honor you as guests with a feast, and in the days following, you may address the elders. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask.” Her gaze shifted to Austin. “Mind yourself in this village, alpha.”
With that, she walked away, taking the path on the right and nodding or gesturing hello to those she passed. The other basajaunak who’d come with us did the same, staying visible as they went along. In a moment, we were left solely with our basajaun and a lot of onlookers who didn’t want us to see them.
“Come this way.” The basajaun took us left as the sunlight started to dwindle. My feet felt like lead after all the walking we’d done, and my legs were starting to cramp up. I needed a meal before I could get to healing.
Around a knuckle of land we went, then down steps naturally made from roots. Finally, the basajaun stopped beside an unused firepit with fresh wood layered inside and a pile waiting nearby. The undergrowth was a bit different here—spongy moss or clover beds lay in between the large trunks of redwoods. All the ferns and other spindly vegetation had been cleared. This was obviously our camp.