Chapter 4 The Boreas Wilds Of The West

By the time they reached the western border, the snow had started to melt into thick mud. The road was rough, and the carriage rocked from side to side as the horse pulled it through the slush.

The outpost was small. A wooden wall surrounded a handful of buildings, most of them worn down by years of bad weather. Traders, hunters, woodcutters, and men with nowhere else to go crowded the muddy streets.

As soon as Kaelen drove into the village, people noticed him.

Conversations stopped.

A few men standing outside a supply store turned to look. A woman carrying a bundle of firewood slowed her pace. Even the guards at the gate followed the carriage with uneasy eyes.

One old trapper spat into the mud.

"That's the Hound."

"The northern bounty hunter?" another man asked.

The trapper nodded.

"He didn't come all this way for nothing."

A merchant standing outside his wagon folded his arms.

"I heard there's a reward big enough to buy an estate."

"You think he's after the witch?"

"What else would bring him to Boreas?"

A young woman watching from an upstairs window frowned.

"Plenty of hunters have gone into those woods."

"And?"

"They never came back."

Kaelen ignored every word.

He pulled the reins, bringing the horse to a stop in the middle of the square.

Peter climbed down from the carriage and looked around. The whole village felt tense. No one came close, but everyone kept watching them.

Kaelen reached into his coat and pulled out a folded map. He spread it across the side of the carriage and frowned.

The northern roads were marked clearly enough, but everything beyond the western border was little more than rough sketches. The forest covered most of the page, with almost no trails drawn through it.

He studied it for another moment before looking at Peter.

"You know a way into those woods?"

Peter stepped closer and looked over the map. "Not really."

He pointed toward the blank stretch of forest. "People say the trails change. Most maps aren't much use once you cross the border."

Kaelen clicked his tongue. "Worthless."

Peter thought for a moment. "The locals might know."

"I don't care what the locals know."

"They've lived here longer than either of us."

Kaelen folded the map halfway. "They'll just lie to us."

"Not all of them might."

"They'll waste my time. I don't have time to spare."

Peter smiled a little. "Then let me waste mine."

Kaelen looked at him without saying anything.

"I'm better at talking to people than you are," Peter continued. "You walk into a room and everyone either hides or reaches for a weapon. They'll tell me things they won't tell you."

Kaelen couldn't argue with that.

He let out a slow breath.

"You've got one hour."

Peter blinked.

"Only one?"

"One."

"What if it takes longer to get the info we need?"

"It won't."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "You've never tried getting information out of drunk hunters."

"I've never needed to."

Peter laughed quietly. "Fair enough."

Kaelen rolled the map back up and tucked it into his coat. "I'll be in the tavern."

He nodded toward a building farther down the street. Warm light spilled through its windows, and loud voices drifted out every time the door opened.

"When you're done, meet me there."

"And if I couldn't find anything?"

Kaelen shrugged. "Then we ride on till we find another way."

"Okay then. I'll be back," Peter said.

Without another word, Kaelen walked toward the tavern.

People moved aside before he reached them.

No one wanted to stand in his path.

Peter watched him disappear through the tavern door before turning toward the rest of the village.

"Well," he muttered to himself, "here goes nothing."

~

The tavern was warmer than the street but only by a little.

Smoke hung beneath the low ceiling. Wet coats were draped over chairs near the fire. The smell of ale, mud, and damp leather filled the room.

Kaelen found an empty table in the corner and sat with his back against the wall.

The serving woman walked over carefully.

"What will you be having sir?"

"Ale."

She placed a mug in front of him without asking for payment first.

Everyone in the room knew who he was.

No one wanted an argument over a few coins.

Kaelen took a drink and looked around.

The room was filled with hunters and traders. Some were arguing over cards. Others spoke quietly over their drinks. A few glanced toward him before quickly looking away.

He preferred it that way.

Outside, Peter started asking questions.

Most people ignored him.

Some told him to leave them alone.

Others demanded money before they would speak.

Peter expected that.

He wasn't looking for the loudest people in the village.

He was looking for the oldest hunters.

Peter found them sitting beneath a wooden shelter beside the stables. There were five of them, all older men with weathered faces and patched hunting clothes. Their boots were covered in dried mud, and their packs looked as though they had seen years of hard travel.

None of them looked happy.

Peter stepped closer with an easy smile.

"Mind if I join you?"

One of the hunters looked him over.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"What you're buying."

Peter laughed and reached into his pocket. He placed a few silver coins on the table. "A round for everyone."

That changed their mood.

The oldest hunter pushed his empty mug toward him.

"Now you're speaking my language."

A few minutes later, fresh drinks arrived.

The men talked about trapping, broken wagons, and bad weather. Peter listened more than he spoke. He laughed when they laughed and let them finish every story before asking another question.

Only after the second round did he finally ask what he had come for.

"I'm looking for the Boreas Woods."

The table fell quiet.

One of the hunters sighed.

"I was wondering when you'd ask."

Another shook his head.

"If you've got any sense, you'll stay away from there kid."

Peter smiled. "I've heard that all day."

"Then listen."

The oldest hunter leaned forward. "Those woods don't welcome strangers."

"You've been inside?" Peter asked.

"Once."

"And?"

The old man stared into his drink for a moment. "My brother didn't come back."

No one laughed after that.

Another hunter scratched his beard.

"The paths don't stay where you leave them."

A third hunter rolled his eyes. "The paths don't move."

"Yes they do."

"No. People just panic and forget where they're walking."

The argument lasted only a few seconds before the oldest man raised a hand.

"Enough."

Both men went quiet.

"The paths aren't the problem."

Peter leaned forward. "What is?"

"The stone pillars."

"What about them?"

"When you find them, don't turn away."

Peter frowned. "I don't understand."

"You don't have to."

The hunter reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of old parchment. He spread it across the table and picked up a piece of charcoal.

"The old trail starts here." He drew a rough line.

"It follows the ravine." Another line.

"You'll reach two standing stones." He marked them with simple shapes. "Pass between them."

"And then?" Peter asked.

"Keep walking."

"That's all?"

The hunter nodded.

"If you leave the trail before then, you'll spend the next week walking in circles."

Peter watched carefully as the old man finished the sketch.

It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.

"Thank you," Peter said honestly.

The hunter folded Peter's fingers around the paper.

"Listen to one more thing."

Peter looked up.

"If the woods start talking to you..."

He paused.

"...don't answer."

~

By the time Peter returned to the tavern, the fire had burned low.

Kaelen was still sitting in the same chair.

He looked up as Peter hurried over.

"You're late."

"I know."

Peter unfolded the sketch across the table.

"But I found something."

Kaelen studied the drawing without speaking.

The trail was rough, but it showed landmarks that weren't on his own map.

"The ravine," Kaelen said.

Peter nodded.

"And these?"

"The standing stones."

Kaelen looked at him. "Who drew this?"

"An old hunter."

"Can he be trusted?"

"I think so."

"You think?"

Peter smiled. "Or he could've taken my money and told me nothing."

Kaelen looked at the map one last time before folding it. "Good enough."

Peter let out a quiet breath. "So..."

"We leave now."

Peter blinked. "Tonight?"

"The witch won't wait until morning." Kaelen said, standing up.

Within minutes they were back on the road.

The village lights disappeared behind them as the carriage rolled west.

The farther they traveled, the quieter the world became.

The muddy road narrowed until it became little more than two worn tracks between the trees.

Tall pines stood on both sides. Their branches blocked most of the moonlight, leaving the road covered in shadows.

Peter pulled his coat tighter.

"I don't like this place." "I've never heard a forest this quiet."

Kaelen didn't answer. He had noticed it too.

No birds.

No wolves.

Not even the sound of insects.

Only the wheels of the carriage and the horse's steady breathing.

After another mile, the road dipped into a narrow ravine.

Large stones stood on either side like silent guards.

Peter looked at them. "The standing stones."

Kaelen slowed the horse.The old hunter had been right.

He guided the carriage between them.

The moment they crossed, something changed.

The air felt colder.

Peter rubbed his arms. "Did you feel that?"

Kaelen's grip tightened on the reins.

Then he heard it. Not through his ears.

Inside his head.

A woman's voice.

Soft.

Calm.

Close enough to make him think she was standing beside him.

"Left..."

He stared into the darkness between the trees.

"Come and find me, Hunter."

His jaw tightened.

Peter noticed him staring.

"Master Hound?"

Kaelen didn't answer right away.

He kept his eyes on the forest ahead.

Then he flicked the reins. "We're going in."

The carriage rolled deeper into the Boreas Woods as the darkness closed behind them.

~