Day 90…and a Half?

“The Rifts had been sealed,” Perceval mused. “But then you five came here. I think it’s possible that you’re correct, Zane.”

“I know I am. I’m the top of my class for a reason.” The boy fired one of his arrows at a tree. He missed the center of his target and the arrow flew straight passed the trunk. “And that’s all I have going for me, apparently,” he tsked.

“That was closer this time!” Glue Pot acknowledged. He clapped his hands together like a proud older brother.

“Is there something off?”

“You mean, that time literally just before this where the author said that as long as there were bird things singing and messing around, we’re safe, and now we suddenly can’t hear them? How awful convenient if that were the case. I think the author would have a better transition than say something and then the thing she says automatically happens. She’s better than that,” said Ginger because she can break the fourth wall now.

“Crap, yeah, well you see, that’s the thing. The bird things are gone and I thin we are in trouble,” Zane replied because he’s some great nature looker atter.

“Jesus, are we in some terrible Wattpad fanfiction? I can’t believe the plot point is going on like this. Hey, author, can you write better? Can’t you just make a transition that easily fits?” Ginger shouted because she was right and the author should feel ashamed.

The author felt ashamed. Yes, she is writing 500 words a day (or 2,000 in one day and making it seem like it was written every day) but that didn’t mean she should decrease her quality. The author vowed to do a little better. But not now. The author was tired and just wanted to be done with her 500 words for the day. And instead, she would still continue with her horrible plot device.


“Is there something a little off?” Zane asked. He quirked his head, trying to listen to the sounds of the forest.

“I thought you knew,” Ginger snickered. “Your aim. That’s what’s off.”

“No, not that,” Zane hissed. “I can’t hear anything. I can’t see anything, either.”

“You can’t say you’ve gone blind to cover up your poor aim,” Gabbie joined in to tease her little brother.

“Guys, I mean it. There’s no sounds.”

“You’re right,” Tipper acknowledged. “It’s as if the valley is dead.”

“The squirts,” Alastair gasped. “The squirrel bird things,” he said to clarify his term for the flying animals. “They’re gone. They’ve been gone for a good twenty minutes.”

“Holy Matron,” Perceval shuddered. “Stop. Everyone stop.”

The companions did as Perceval ordered. Without the addition of their footsteps and jostling equipment, they could better hear the aching silence hovering around them. There was no wind. No creaking of tree branches. A painful cold curled around their limbs now that they were no longer walking.

“Look around. Listen.” Digitalis walked around the group in a circle. She hopped onto a lower hanging tree branch and climbed the limbs until she was halfway up the tree. Digitalis looked around in a full circle, biting her lip in concern. She almost fell backwards after a few more seconds of patrol. “There’s someone running through the forest. They’re going to run right into us!” She yelped.

“I don’t hear anything like that,” Glue Pot said.

As if to prove the centaur wrong, they all heard an ear piercing screech of fear plummet straight into their chests. The fear was so primal that adrenaline immediately pooled into their feet and hands.

“I think she’s being chased,” Digitalis added before she had enough of watching and climbed back down. “We have to go. Right. Now.”

Another sound accompanied the cry. It was as though they heard the barking of hell hounds mixed with the guttural cry of an frenzied lion, and the sound came not from one but many, many throats.

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