Hunters' Shadow (Book one of the Hunter Chronicles)

Chapter Fifty Five

What is –

Then she spotted it.

The loch, served as an elaborate picture frame for her tortured childhood memory. The scene carefully constructed in her minds eye so that the lochs cold, crisp edges lead her gaze towards the opposite bank where her kin had perished. With the mountains rising above them, trees stood out with remarkable clarity against their majestic backdrop, every detail playing out on the distant shore as sharp and clear as crystal. Which was impossible, of course.

In contrast, the forest surrounding her own beach, had until now, been little more than a fuzzy outline in her recollections. Today though, the vast evergreen forest soared above her, every needle on every branch as clear and detailed as though it were sitting under a magnifying glass.

She looked back towards the loch. The waters seemed to stretch much further than before, The banks far enough away to be blurred, the trees beyond indistinct and faded – poor copies of the majestic pines in front of her. The dreams focus had changed.

But why?

Her eyes traced the sparkling carpet of snow across the rocky shore, marvelling at the rainbow of colours the sunlight created as it passed over the different shades of pebbles. As her gaze turned downwards, she realised, with mild surprise, that she could no longer see her feet. At first glance they seemed buried in a scattering of powdery white snow and she wondered how long she had been standing there, captivated by the scenery around her. Then it registered with her... the ‘snow' was moving.

She let out an unintentional cry of alarm. Curling up around her ankles and flowing steadily towards the trees like water in a shallow stream – a white mist rippled and eddied over the stones and around the nearest tree trunks, sinuous and fluid.

What the –

Her eyes flew around the clearing. The ground beyond her lay clear and unimpeded and her expression twisted to reflect her utter confusion. In her befuddled state it took her a moment to realise the truth. The mist wasn't just curling around her feet... her feet were the source.

The mist flowed from her own body like water from a spring, encroaching on the wintery landscape in all directions, slowly swallowing the ground in a heavy white blanket of nothingness.

The thin tendrils of insubstantial fog seemed to call to her, beckoning her away from the lake and into the depths of the forest. She latched onto it, refusing to turn back towards the water. She already knew the horrors that lay in that direction and her mind rebelled against reliving them, even in her dream.

The more she resisted the dreams natural pull, the faster the mist seemed to flow from her. Thicker now and viscous, everything it touched disappearing completely, wiped from her memory as though it were never there. It wrapped around her like cotton wool, covering her with a strange lethargy that numbed her to any sense of alarm she might have felt.

How strange, she thought, unable to summon up the energy to be anything more than mildly curious.

As she watched the mist twist and turn, fascinated by the sinuous dance, a movement amongst the trees caught her attention and she turned dull eyes towards it, expecting another branch to have relinquished its winter coat .

Instead, a beautiful russet-coloured wolf stepped out between the evergreen branches. Recognition flickered in her fog tattered memories, she knew this wolf. She stared with childish wonder as it cast its golden eyed gaze upon her.

As soon as their eyes met, a sudden and intense pain shot through her forehead and embedded itself deep in her mind. The agony drove her to her knees and she cried out, her hands automatically reaching up clutch the sides of her head.