Wild Hunt

~ Chapter Seventeen ~

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~ Chapter Seventeen ~

"When my love said to me,
Meet me down by the gallow tree,
For its sad news I bring,
About this old town and all that it's suffering,
Some say troubles abound,
Someday soon they're going to pull the old town down,
One day we'll return here,
When the Belfast child sings again."

Belfast Child, Simple Minds

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I had never been to this part of the forest before. Despite the familiar rustling of the birds in the canopy and their chittering birdsong everything felt dead. The light seemed to fade away as the trees blocked out the sun, their wiry branches spreading out like long, bony fingers. I followed my fathers silent figure as he strode between the moss-eaten trees, his shoulder barely catching the crumbling bark. I shrunk away as a slimy insect crawled from underneath, quickly disappearing under the skin once more. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck as my unease intensified.

"Where are we going?" I cringed as my voice wavered. I froze as my father paused to assess my significantly inferior figure. His slate eyes narrowed on my face before snapping to my hand as it twitched.

"Alphas don't feel fear." He reminded me stonily. I bowed my head, a blush of shame setting my cheeks on fire. My father ignored me and continued through the woods, the undergrowth crunching in protest under the weight of each step. A mountain of ivy sprung from the base of a tree, the curling tendrils spreading along the floor like some creature clawing for prey. I brushed a finger against the bright leaves but jumped when my father snarled.

"Don't touch that!" My heart beat in my ears as I retracted my hand instantly. My father's eyes blazed; the blistering scars which marred his face even more prominent than before. I swallowed.

"I'm sorry, father." I managed to splutter. He straightened and looked further into the trees. I peered past his hulking body to recognise a small clearing ahead. We continued on in dead silence. Ivy sprouted from the ground all around us, climbing up the trees and coating the forest in a blanket of green. We stopped. The air was heavy and damp with the remnants of rain and the ivy glistened in the faint light. I turned around to observe the unremarkable grove.

"The ivy marks the grave of each wolf who died in the Battle of Marbh." My father muttered blankly. I stopped, my breath catching in my throat. I assessed the woods in every direction and was confronted by an endless sea of green. I swerved around erratically, but all I could see was ivy, everywhere, at the foot of every tree, scattered in mounds along the floor.

"This is where it happened?" I barely choked. My father pointed to his left.

"I was there. I was fifteen and battle-ready." He turned to point to his right.

"They made me watch. They made me watch as they skinned my grandfather alive." His voice lowered until it was dark and barely audible. I fought the urge to gag as turbulent images leaked from my father's thoughts. Everything was smoky and black as pitch. But I could hear the agonising wails, the crack of bones, the gurgling of blood, the ripping of flesh. I could see his deformed body wriggling and arching in pain. I could see his eyes rolling into the back of his skull, his teeth clenching so hard they broke as he was roped to the trees and the knives carved him from himself. I could hear the laughter, the cries of glee, the ecstasy as they ripped him piece by piece. He shivered, his fur thick with blood, his eyes crying out in the darkness. In the moment all I could see was a tortured animal, trapped and scared. Tears streaked my cheeks and I tried to cover my eyes but the image didn't fade. The chorus of glee heightened as the attackers cut the skin free and held the dripping fur in the air, their crazed faces sprayed with blood, shining in the darkness.