The Society | Completed

Part 31

She hates mud.

She hates it even more when it's almost up to her knees.

Conrad looks over her shoulder, making sure Scarlet was close by.

"You doing okay?" Conrad calls, adjusting the bag on her back.

"I fucking hate this," Scarlet screams, stomping her foot.

Mud flies upwards, nearly hitting her.

"I know," Conrad sighs, waiting for her friend to catch up.

"Why couldn't they send Aaron? He's taller than both of us; it would be safer for him to be in here," Scarlet whines.

Conrad offers her hand, which Scarlet manages to grab.

Conrad hauls her forward, and Scarlet is finally beside her.

They stop moving, leaning against respective trees.

"I still don't see anyone. I think Amaretti is doing this on purpose, torturing us," Scarlet scowls, taking a swig of the water from her bag.

"I don't think he's that brave," Conrad snorts, "this is literal hell. I swear to the Goddess, if I don't see a clue soon, I'm giving up."

Thunder booms above them and Scarlet glowers at her friend.

"If it rains because of your holy swearing, I'm leaving you here, and you can find a way home yourself," she grumbles, pushing off the tree.

"That way," Conrad sighs, pointing the right way before Scarlet can even ask.

Conrad follows her, the noise of the birds chirping getting on her nerves.

The day is gorgeous; the sun is shining, flowers are blooming, and there are plenty of animals scuttling about. They're in a forest, and the trees block most of the light.

They're supposed to be tracking a hitman, but they've both given up on finding anyone or anything.

They didn't have the energy to be interested in the mission anymore, especially after trudging through mud for four hours.

Conrad's leg was still killing her, and she knows her muscles will be destroyed the next day.

"Do you see a ginger prick? I don't see any gingers in this forest; oh, actually, I don't see anyone at all," Scarlett growls, stabbing a tree with her knife.

Conrad rolls her eyes, raising the bag to her nose.

She lets Jane come forward, using her wolves' nose to track the scent.

"Any tracks?" Scarlet asks impatiently, and Conrad glares at her.

"It's not an instant thing, and you keep interrupting it. Just give me a second," Conrad sighs, closing her eyes and stopping in her tracks.

She cracks her neck, putting her nose back into the bag.

"We're going the right direction," Conrad finally establishes after a deep inhale of the air.

"We can't see any tracks," Scarlet points out, and Conrad scowls.

"Yeah, because you're doing a bloody dance," Conrad spits.

Scarlet stops her hopping, looking at the ground around her.

Wherever Scarlet hasn't stepped is a smooth and muddy surface, a thin layer of leaves on top of the mud layer.

"I see a footprint there," Conrad murmurs, pulling herself out of the muddy track and onto some of the roots.

Scarlet does the same, just on the opposite side of the wide track.