there?”
Instead of answering, I lead to where I
stashed the makeshift raft I made out of driftwood. I’d been
working on the damn thing for the better part of six months. It may
not look pretty, but it floats.
I drop my pack onto the raft and bend to
push it into the softly lapping waves. At least the water is
calm.
I glance up to Conn.
He twists the little silver loop in his ear
and gives the raft an uneasy look before he sighs and tosses his
pack next to mine. He knows as much as I do that the potential game
on the island is worth the risk.
Together we shove away from shore. He gives
me another look and I just grin at him, before we each grab one of
the long poles we’ll be using for oars and drag our way toward the
island.
It takes longer than I expected to cross the
expanse. Even though the water looked calm on the surface, there
was a strong current underneath that kept trying to push us back
toward the cove. The sun is coming up over the horizon when we
finally drag the raft onto the shore.
The trees are all covered in fog thick as
smoke. It’s not surprising. The island is always covered in fog.
The pink dawn makes it seem surreal and a bit eerie.
I shudder, but brush off the spider webs of
dread clinging to my skin. The forest should be like any of the
wooded areas near the village, but overflowing with animals.
The dread starts to come back when we land
and, besides the birds, there’s no other sounds on the island.
Why aren’t there any more sounds?
There should be something in there making noise. Deer.
Squirrels. Bugs for God’s sake.
Is the fog sucking up all the sound? Or are
there just not any animals? The thought makes my stomach hurt, but
I brush it off. There have got to be animals here.
Conn and I glance at each other. There’s
only one way to find out. We grab our supplies, shouldering our
packs before dragging the raft further away from the shore. It
would completely suck if a wave washed it away before we got back.
I still hope to have a ton of meat to haul home.
We take a few moments to hide the raft,
combing the beach for debris. Just in case. Don’t expect anyone out
here to steal it, but can’t be too careful.
Just as I drop my last armful onto the raft,
Conn calls my name. There’s something in his voice that makes me
nervous. I turn to see him frantically waving me over from halfway
down the beach, panic in his movements.
Conn isn’t one to jump at shadows; something
is definitely wrong. I rush over; his face is pale and he looks
like he’s going to be sick.
I see something lying on ground by his
feet.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach tells
me I probably don’t want to know it is. But even as I tell myself I
don’t want to know, I already see.
It’s a body.
I lean down, trying to see if I recognize
the person. I’m hoping beyond all hope that it isn’t one of the
hunters we lost a few months ago. Honestly, I hope it isn’t someone
I know at all, but I realize the chance is slim. Who else would’ve
died on this strange little island?
I hold my breath as I inspect his face. He’s
young—older than Tristan, but younger than Conn and me. I feel a
weight lift as I realize it’s quite evident that this person isn’t
a villager. He’d been in the water awhile before he washed up here,
but nothing about him is familiar.
The skin is pale, as if it’s never seen a
ray of sunlight. The short blond hair is a strange yellow,
nearly…too perfect of a blond. It makes me think that this
boy—whoever he was--never saw the sun, but I don’t even know how
that’s possible. Or how he’d end up here on the island.
The cause of death is easy to see. I’d
recognize those wounds anywhere. Two gunshots to the chest. If the
shots didn’t kill him, considering how much blood is still staining
his shirt, he bled out. I’m just surprised he didn’t end up dinner
to any of the sea life. With that much blood floating around, I’m
sure a shark would have noticed.
Then
Instead of answering, I lead to where I
stashed the makeshift raft I made out of driftwood. I’d been
working on the damn thing for the better part of six months. It may
not look pretty, but it floats.
I drop my pack onto the raft and bend to
push it into the softly lapping waves. At least the water is
calm.
I glance up to Conn.
He twists the little silver loop in his ear
and gives the raft an uneasy look before he sighs and tosses his
pack next to mine. He knows as much as I do that the potential game
on the island is worth the risk.
Together we shove away from shore. He gives
me another look and I just grin at him, before we each grab one of
the long poles we’ll be using for oars and drag our way toward the
island.
It takes longer than I expected to cross the
expanse. Even though the water looked calm on the surface, there
was a strong current underneath that kept trying to push us back
toward the cove. The sun is coming up over the horizon when we
finally drag the raft onto the shore.
The trees are all covered in fog thick as
smoke. It’s not surprising. The island is always covered in fog.
The pink dawn makes it seem surreal and a bit eerie.
I shudder, but brush off the spider webs of
dread clinging to my skin. The forest should be like any of the
wooded areas near the village, but overflowing with animals.
The dread starts to come back when we land
and, besides the birds, there’s no other sounds on the island.
Why aren’t there any more sounds?
There should be something in there making noise. Deer.
Squirrels. Bugs for God’s sake.
Is the fog sucking up all the sound? Or are
there just not any animals? The thought makes my stomach hurt, but
I brush it off. There have got to be animals here.
Conn and I glance at each other. There’s
only one way to find out. We grab our supplies, shouldering our
packs before dragging the raft further away from the shore. It
would completely suck if a wave washed it away before we got back.
I still hope to have a ton of meat to haul home.
We take a few moments to hide the raft,
combing the beach for debris. Just in case. Don’t expect anyone out
here to steal it, but can’t be too careful.
Just as I drop my last armful onto the raft,
Conn calls my name. There’s something in his voice that makes me
nervous. I turn to see him frantically waving me over from halfway
down the beach, panic in his movements.
Conn isn’t one to jump at shadows; something
is definitely wrong. I rush over; his face is pale and he looks
like he’s going to be sick.
I see something lying on ground by his
feet.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach tells
me I probably don’t want to know it is. But even as I tell myself I
don’t want to know, I already see.
It’s a body.
I lean down, trying to see if I recognize
the person. I’m hoping beyond all hope that it isn’t one of the
hunters we lost a few months ago. Honestly, I hope it isn’t someone
I know at all, but I realize the chance is slim. Who else would’ve
died on this strange little island?
I hold my breath as I inspect his face. He’s
young—older than Tristan, but younger than Conn and me. I feel a
weight lift as I realize it’s quite evident that this person isn’t
a villager. He’d been in the water awhile before he washed up here,
but nothing about him is familiar.
The skin is pale, as if it’s never seen a
ray of sunlight. The short blond hair is a strange yellow,
nearly…too perfect of a blond. It makes me think that this
boy—whoever he was--never saw the sun, but I don’t even know how
that’s possible. Or how he’d end up here on the island.
The cause of death is easy to see. I’d
recognize those wounds anywhere. Two gunshots to the chest. If the
shots didn’t kill him, considering how much blood is still staining
his shirt, he bled out. I’m just surprised he didn’t end up dinner
to any of the sea life. With that much blood floating around, I’m
sure a shark would have noticed.
Then
Similar Books
