Shadow Requiem

Chapter 12: A Glimpse of Victory

~~[966 Words]~~

The light was blinding. He couldn't see a thing, so he threw an arm over his face.

Right where he was earlier—there's a total idiot.

The Wargroat had lost every bit of sense, now spinning itself in wild, agitated circles above the spot he'd just dodged. It looked nuts, honestly, and the sound was deafening. Three full circles, then it bolted. Gone. Didn't look back.

Packk—!

Yuren hit the ground hard, arm still covering his eyes.

He blacked out. Something exploded with light behind him. Same thing as last time.

Slowly, he lowered his arm and realized he was flat on the dirt. It didn't take long to figure out— he was back at the top of the mountain, right where he'd started.

"What just happened?"

He shot upright, face stinging from fresh cuts, but something felt off. His limp was gone. Weird. He patted down his back, checking for damage—just battered clothes hanging off him, nothing else.

He glanced up, and there was Amaya, floating soundlessly, never missing a beat.

"That's their move—not mine," he said, almost pointing off the cliff. He kept thinking about how impossible it all was. He should've been dead. No getting around that. But here he was. "Was there——?" he muttered, almost to himself. "I swear something grabbed me from behind… and then——."

A sound rang out over the whole mountainside. Deep, drawn-out, kingly. It hit him like a storybook. He looked skyward and spotted an enormous bird, wings outstretched, slipping into the distance. "That was—yeah, that's the one." Warmth broke through his grin. "The one Mum and I saw in the city. Gorgeous!"

Something moved in the grass.

He spun. Just a rabbit, sniffing out of a burrow. Nothing chasing him. Just life going on.

"Hmm! Where'd it go?"

He thought about whatever had nearly eaten him alive. His whole body tightened. Scanned left, right, searching. But nothing here. Just the tracks it left behind. The Wargroat had vanished.

NovelFire is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Yuren got to his feet, slow. Let it settle in—yeah, really gone.

"Where did that stinky pig go?"

Then he just lost it. Yelled into the open air, "WHERE ARE YOU, YOU UGLY PIECE OF GARBAGE! WE'RE NOT DONE. I'M RIGHT HERE. COME ON. GET OUT HERE—LET'S FIGHT!"

Silence. The valley gave him nothing.

"You're hideous, you know that? And your breath STINKS! HAHAHA!" The words bounced off the rocks, then faded.

Nothing answered.

"So that really was it? Guess it's gone," he said, letting out a long breath. He looked at Amaya. "Let's move."

He barely got the words out before he was already running—straight for the cliff's edge. Eyes locked on a giant tree in the distance, and at the very top, like a prize, a green bandana. The one he'd been itching to grab since he first saw it. He'd clocked it earlier, and now this was his shot. Just one problem—the thing sat at the crown of a tree so tall, just looking at it made your guts churn. A hundred meters, easy. Should've felt hopeless, but compared to how high up he actually was, the tree was nothing. It was lower than him—a fifty, maybe sixty-meter drop across.

He jabbed a finger at it. "Look at that, Amaya! See it?" He grinned. "We found the first bandana. Not a bad start, right? How many left?"

He counted on his fingers, lips pressed tight. Six more.

He bent forward, palms flat on his thighs, head hanging. The weight of it all pressed in. Just getting one bandana had looked like a nightmare. Six more? He had to round them all up before nightfall—or worse, show up empty-handed in front of Grandpa, wherever the old man was hiding.

He shoved his fingers through his hair, roughing it up even more.

"Forget it—doesn't matter," he muttered, snapping himself back. "I just need to get it. Fast." He took a step, then stopped. "Wait. How am I supposed to get that bandana? Climb?" He could already picture it—Yuren scaling the tallest tree he'd ever seen. "This mountain's even taller and it's not a tree." He stomped the ground for emphasis. "Rope? No chance. Vines, maybe—but how do I tie vines if there's nothing up there?"

"What then."

He stood quiet, hands on hips, eyes flicking to Amaya. "Hey—you got any ideas?"

No answer. Amaya's eyes met his, bright and silent, then drifted behind him. He twisted to keep her in sight. "Nothing?"

She let out a single chirp—short and sweet, with just a hint of attitude.

He turned back and pressed his fingers to his chin, thinking hard.

Open sky all around. Air vibrating. A cold breeze curling up his skin.

He breathed deep. Slow.

"What if I tried a different way..." He walked to the edge of the cliff. A hundred meters, maybe two hundred, straight down. No fear. Only calm. Just the question—how? That bandana, life or death. Screw up, you're done.

"Wait…" He glanced down. The wind rushed up to meet him. He reached out, searching—and found them. Vines, thick and strong, buried under the overgrowth on the rocks. He grinned. Finally.

He looked over his shoulder—Amaya, always keeping watch.

Then he jumped.

Totally reckless.

The bird squawked, startled, eyes darting after him.

And there he was, swinging from a thick bundle of vines, hanging halfway down the cliff face.

He started climbing.

Amaya followed, and—true to her style—started pecking him on the head.

He almost lost his grip then and there.

"Amaya! That hurts! Knock it off—you want me to fall? Stop it! I'm your master, you gotta listen to me."

"Ow!... Ow!... Ow!"

"Cut it out!"

But she wasn't listening. Not one bit.