Shades of Grey

CHEMIN DU JEUNESSE— MARCH 1843

After our unfriendly encounter with the Xantharian nobles, we spent the night in a nearby cave. We awoke early the next morning and began travelling before the sun was even up. Forma was less than happy at the antemeridian start.

“Grey, was it necessary to be up before sunrise?” she asked, dozing on the edge of my hat. “I did almost die yesterday. You could have some sympathy.”

I smiled knowingly at Rodag.

“Come on, Forma. Farmers wake up this early every day.”

“I’m not a farmer, Grey!” she shot back. Rodag and I laughed.

“Touché…” I replied, my voice dying away as my senses perked suddenly. Something had rustled the bushes to my left. Forma heard it too.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I replied, staring off into the dark trees as they moaned in the early morning winds. Forma then flew from my hat in the form of a hummingbird into the trees to investigate.

“That doesn’t sound natural,” Rodag said softly, noticing it for the first time. I nodded in agreement, my heart beating faster.

“Forma, what do you see?”

We were motionless for several more moments as I waited for Forma’s reply, my stomach churning in nerves as the seconds continued to tick by.

Forma suddenly shot out of the greenery past us and on through the wood.

“RUN!” she called back.

Rodag and I obeyed instinctively, just as the trees around us sprang to life and lifted their roots out of the earth, chasing us like children would chase a toy that had fallen from their grasp.

Forma swiftly changed into a Serthra and Rodag and I both mounted her quickly, staying low as she flew her winged serpent body agilely around the fuming trees.

“Who dares to disturb the mighty Trenstors?!” they cried with such low voices that I felt my insides rattle with every syllable.

“Fly higher!” I cried, for she was just barely above the ground. Forma did her very best to obey, trying to break through the thick canopy above as the trees attempted to retrieve us with their claw-like branches. Despite Forma’s skilful evasive manoeuvres, however, I felt sturdy branch-like hands close around my waist.

“No!” Rodag cried, trying to slice the branch away with his dagger. I tried to reach my Flamesword but the trees were too fast and in seconds, both of us were lifted from Forma’s back, our limbs locked in their rootish grips.

“Forma!” I shouted to her as she was knocked into the air.

“Grey! Where are you?” she replied as she recovered her flight pattern and searched for me.

“Get as far away from this place as you possibly can. Listen for me! I will call for you when I have escaped!” I cried, trying not to sound reluctant. Wild Maisling Fairies and Trenstors had been feuding for centuries; it was too dangerous for her to stay amongst so many of them.

“No! I’m staying to help you!”

“Forma, there’s nothing you can do!”

Suddenly a bag was pulled over my head and a long, branch-like finger locked over my mouth.

“Stay silent, Hunter,” whispered the rumbling voice of a Trenstor.