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Chapter 14: Nightmare Fuel

Chapter 14: Nightmare Fuel

Mara kept her eyes closed.

It did not help.

The forest refused to become background noise. Every sound carried too clearly through the darkness, demanding that she imagine the thing responsible for it. Leaves scraped together without wind. Wood groaned somewhere above her. Something moved through the undergrowth beyond the powder circle, its weight pressing slowly into the soil before withdrawing again.

A distant branch snapped.

Another answered from much closer.

Mara opened her eyes and stared into the blue lantern light.

Nothing had changed. The coffin remained cold against her back, the protective powder still formed an unbroken circle around them, and the nearest trees stood exactly where they had before. Their trunks rose beyond the lantern’s reach, disappearing beneath a canopy that seemed to swallow the light rather than reflect it.

She turned her head.

Rook had already fallen asleep.

The bastard had warned her that the forest contained Abominations disguised as trees, admitted that some could drag travelers away without warning, then closed his eyes as though they were resting in a comfortable inn.

His head leaned against the coffin. His arms were folded loosely across his chest, and his legs stretched toward the edge of the powder circle. The pale chain connecting their wrists lay across the soil between them.

Mara stared at him with quiet disbelief.

"Insufferable," she whispered.

Rook did not react.

She tried closing her eyes again.

A wet tapping noise came from somewhere behind the coffin.

Mara’s eyes opened immediately.

The sound continued at irregular intervals. Tap. Silence. Tap. Tap. It resembled thick drops of water falling onto leaves, except the air was dry and nothing had fallen from the canopy since they entered the forest.

She glanced at Rook.

Still asleep.

Mara shifted closer to the coffin and forced herself to look away from the darkness. Rook had said the powder would repel the smaller Abominations. The larger ones would avoid the trees, while the trees themselves would remain stationary unless provoked.

There was no reason to panic.

Another branch creaked overhead.

Mara looked up.

A dark fruit hung among the leaves, swaying gently despite the absence of wind. Something pressed against its skin from within, stretching the surface for a moment before sinking back into the flesh.

She lowered her gaze.

There were several reasons to panic.

Time became difficult to measure. The Underworld possessed no moon whose movement she could follow and no gradual change in the sky. Darkness simply remained darkness. Mara sat with her arms wrapped around herself, listening as the forest shifted around them.

Occasionally, she caught movement between the trees.

A long shape passed behind one trunk and failed to emerge from the other side. Pale fingers curled over a branch high above them, only to become twigs when the lantern light reached them.

She considered waking Rook.

Then she imagined the expression he would give her after discovering that she was probably imagining things.

She decided she would rather be eaten.

Another sound rose through the forest.

A low, strained moan.

Mara turned toward it. The noise continued for several seconds before changing into the unmistakable groan of wood bending beneath pressure. One of the trees in the distance leaned sideways, its upper branches scraping against those surrounding it. The entire trunk twisted, revealing a vertical split filled with darkness.

Then it settled back into place.

Mara fought the urge to stand.

Running would only take her beyond the powder circle. The pale chain would drag Rook after her, assuming the forest did not take her first. Staying close to him remained the safest choice available, even if every instinct left from life begged her to bolt.

She looked at him again.

Rook’s expression had changed.

The irritating trace of amusement he had carried into sleep was gone. His brow had tightened, and his jaw pressed hard enough for the muscles along his cheek to show. One of his hands had closed around his coat.

Mara watched him for several moments.

His fingers tightened.

A faint sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

She had not known the dead could sweat. Then again, Rook had already informed her that they could eat, bleed, shit and piss, so perhaps nightmares should not have surprised her.

His breathing changed.

The dead did not need air, yet his chest began rising and falling in short, uneven movements. His boots shifted against the soil. The heel of one struck a protruding stone producing a dull knock that seemed far too loud in the clearing.

Mara leaned toward him. "Rook?"

He did not wake.

The tension spread through his body. His shoulders drew inward as though bracing against restraints she could not see. The hand gripping his coat moved to his forearm and dug into the skin beneath the rolled sleeve.

His lips parted.

Nothing coherent emerged. Only a low, broken sound trapped somewhere between pain and anger.

Mara hesitated.

Perhaps it was better to leave him alone. Whatever he was seeing had already happened, likely centuries ago. Waking him would only bring him back to a forest filled with creatures waiting to eat them.

Then something moved beyond the powder circle.

Mara stopped watching Rook.

A shape stood between two trees.

She could see only its outline at first. It remained beyond the lantern’s glow, low to the ground and much longer than a person. Several limbs bent beneath its body. Two narrow shapes dragged behind it, cutting trails through the leaves.

Mara stared into the darkness.

The creature took one slow step forward.

Then another.

The repelling powder should have stopped it.

It did not.

Blue light reached its foremost limbs.

Eight feet pressed against the soil in pairs, each ending in curved toes that spread beneath its weight. The body above them resembled an enormous lizard, although the proportions were wrong. Its torso hung too low, its scales were separated by strips of exposed flesh, and two tails moved independently behind it.

Its head belonged to something else.

A woman’s face rested at the end of the reptilian neck. Long, hanging hair spilled around it, draping over the creature’s shoulders and spreading across the ground in dark strands. The face might once have appeared beautiful. Now the skin stretched too tightly over its features, and both eyes had become empty sockets filled with perfect darkness.

Its mouth opened.

Thick fangs pushed out from the gums like thorns. They did not interlock when the jaws closed. Each tooth crossed another at an angle, forcing their sharpened ends outward through the creature’s lips.

It continued toward them.

Slowly.

Silently.

And with purpose.