They travelled further into the woods, bumping and bouncing along while Carly clutched her seat belt as though her life depended upon it. Eventually, the vegetation grew far too thick for the jeep, trees growing closely and the undergrowth become wilder. Ian stopped the jeep and turned off the engine. He and Carly then walked the rest of the way.
"How far is it?" Carly asked, taking care not to trip over the sprawl of tree roots, her sneakers squelching against the muddy forest floor.
"A bit farther. You'll need to climb a little to reach the cemetery"
Sure enough, the ground grew steeper; rock jutting out of the slop. Carly had to grip overhead branches and lean against tree trunks to keep herself from tumbling over.
"Need some help?" Ian asked, gracefully inching back down so that he was closer to her. She saw him smirking as he held out his hand. "I can carry you if you want. What kind of a mate would I be if I couldn't do that much?"
Carly slapped his hand away. "I'm not your mate dammit." She flared up. "And I can climb up there on my own, thank you very much."
She took a step further up the slope to make her point, followed by another. But she was moving too fast and not watching where she was going. A rock came loose under foot, tumbling away. With her balance disturbed, Carly wobbled precariously, her arms waving in circles. It was only thanks to Ian's assistance that she did not topple over and roll down the scree , his arm looping around her waist to steady her.
"Should have let me carry you." He chided. Carly recoiled in his grasp, freeing herself at once and shooting up the remainder of the slope. This time however, she dared not slip.
The scree leveled off at the top, giving away to a grassy plain. Taking a moment to catch her breath, it was only when Ian tapped her lightly on the shoulder did she look up to see where she was.
The cemetery was not unlike a human one. Stone monoliths and tombs rising out of the vegetation like a small city, crumbling in places were lichen had not reached. The stone were varying shades of grey, their textures defined by how old they were. The older graves were either blackened or moss covered, their writing lost to time. With clouds hanging low, the shroud of white mist added to the eerie, deathly silence of the cemetery.
The shuffles of their steps were loud as they made their way through the rows of tombs, exploring the site. Where there were no tombs, they found slender obelisks etched with writing and statues chiseled into the shapes of wolves standing guard at various intervals, their ears and snouts sometimes missing. The statues themselves had rectangular niches cut into their stomach area. Ian stopped by one of the eroded wolves and bent down, producing a small packaged wrapped in paper from his pocket.
Carly watched with fascination as he proceeded to arrange an assortment of items within the niche; half a wish bone, flower petals and a ball of clay. He then put his thumb to his lips and bit it, drawing blood. Ian smeared the blood over the wolf's snout and murmured a quick prayer under his breath before rising to rejoin Carly.
"What was that just now?" Carly asked curiously.
"A little ritual werewolves must perform when entering a cemetery." He explained. "It's a sign of respect for our ancestors, as well as a prayer for them to guide all werewolves into the afterlife.
The bone represents an offering to appease the spirits. The flower petals–jasmine–are said help guide werewolves into paradise. The ball of clay tells the spirit which territory and pack you belong to. Finally, the blood is to seal the prayer between yourself and the spirits."
They continued their stroll through the graveyard, Carly occasionally stopping to take pictures of carvings and inscriptions. They passed a stone wall, three small wolf figures craved into them. Ian pointed them out as the three great spirits; The spirit of the Moon, her mate the spirit of the Sun and their offspring, the spirit of the stars.
Other structures they came across included blocks of stone with circular stone spheres placed on top of them , a circular plate etched with odd symbols and an indiscernible statue lying on its side. When Carly asked about them, Ian shrugged.
"Those are centuries old." He said, clearly as curious about them as she was. "Remember, The Payne pack only came here in the nineteenth century. There were werewolves well before us, ancient packs whose stories have long been forgotten."
As she wandered closer to inspect one of the tombs, Carly noticed a triangular notch cut into the face of the stone, showing only the blackness within. She made a move to peer in, caught by a sudden morbid urge to catch a glimpse of the deceased werewolf inside. As though he had read her mind, Ian's hand firmly gripped her by the shoulder, pulling her back.
"That's considered disrespectful." He informed her. He did not appear upset with her, in fact, he seemed quite pleased with the interest she was taking in his heritage.
Carly, although quick to brush his hands off, apologized profusely . She was getting carried away.
"The holes allow moon light to enter the grave." Ian explained, sounding much like a teacher giving his students an important lesson. "It is so as to calm the spirit of the wolf, especially on a full moon when it is most agitated. Restless spirits find it difficult to find paradise."
"Like Jerald?" She asked.
Ian shook his head. "No, he gave up paradise to protect the mountains he loved so much. He will only move on when there is not a human or werewolf left alive in this region."
Carly stepped around the tomb, stepping on dried jasmine petals as she walked over to the other side of the tomb to take a look at the inscriptions. It was only on the other side, obscured and shielded by ferns and nettle, did she notice something was off. The tomb was broken.
The tombs in the cemetery were all far from being in perfect condition, worn smooth by wind and cracked open by the rain. But this tomb had not fallen prey to the elements. In fact, this one was surprisingly well preserved, save for the gaping cracks in its side. Carly could see a pile of something within the tomb's dark depths.
"Ian, take a look at this." She waved him over. He crouched down beside her, brushing away the nettles as if they were nothing. Carly saw his eyes grow wide with surprise. He reached out into the hole as though something had caught his eye and he wanted to inspect it. As soon as his hand closed around it, he gave a howl of pain and leapt back, clutching his hand as though he had been badly burnt.
"Silver." He snarled, yellow eyes ablaze with primal fear, looking very much like a feral animal caught in a corner.
Carly was astonished by his reaction, reaching for her phone and flashing its torch light into the hole. The light picked up what appeared to be a neat pile of ash, particles scattering from the draft filtering through the crack. Around the pile was a circle of silvery spheres, glowing like tiny moons in the dank darkness of the tomb. She picked one up, showing Ian her find and telling him about the arrangement within the tomb. At once, his face contorted, eyes flashing with anger she had never seen before.
"This tomb has been desecrated." He hissed, glaring at the sphere of silver lying harmlessly in Carly's palm. "They cremated the remains of the werewolf and sullied their resting place with silver. Those bastards."
"Who could have done it?" "Surely not the locals, they adore your kind."
"Maybe not the locals, but this undoubtedly the work of humans. Werewolf Hunters to be exact." He murmured, more to himself than her. Carly's brows shot up in surprise.
"Let's get rid of the silver from the grave. It's the least we can do for this poor wolf's soul." Ian asked before she could question him further. While Carly wanted to know more about Ian's speculations, she was unnerved by the uncharacteristically serious way he was acting. Ian seemed like the kind of person who always smiled and laughed, despite the situation.
She removed the silver from the grave, pocketing them and allowing Ian to cover up the crack with a large rock he had found. He then uttered a silent prayer, looking as though he really was quite distressed by what he had seen.
They're outing came to an end after that, with Ian murmuring how it was late and that they should be getting back. Carly tried to bring up the subject of the grave and the Werewolf Hunters again on the ride back, but Ian had become surprisingly reserved. Carly soon gave up trying to get anything out of him, partially because he was unresponsive and partially because she felt cruel prodding and poking about what was obviously a sensitive subject.
Yet, the uneasy curiosity continued to bother her all the way back home. Her grandmother's dark mutterings wormed their way into her thoughts. From the strange deaths and disappearance to the desecrated graves , Carly too began to wonder just how safe Payne's Hollow was any more.