Chapter 4 The Boreas Wilds Of The West

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By the time they reached the western border, the snow had started to melt into a thick mud. The road was rough, and the carriage rocked from side to side as the horse pulled it through the slush.

The outpost was small and A wooden wall surrounded a handful of buildings, most of them worn down by years of bad weather.

Traders, hunters, woodcutters, and men with nowhere else to go crowded the muddy streets.

As soon as Kaelen drove into the village, people noticed him.

A few men standing outside a supply store turned to look. A woman carrying a bundle of firewood slowed her pace. Even the guards at the gate followed the carriage with uneasy eyes.

One old trapper said to the other. "That's the Hound."

"The northern bounty hunter?" another man asked.

The trapper nodded.

"I bet he didn't come all this way for nothing."

A merchant standing outside his wagon folded his arms. "You think he's also after the witch?"

"Of course. What else would bring him to Boreas wilds?"

A young woman watching from an upstairs window frowned as she spoke to her friend. "Plenty of hunters have gone into those woods. And they never came back. It would be a shame not to see that handsome face again."

Kaelen ignored every word he overheard.

He pulled the reins, bringing the horse to a stop in the middle of the square.

Peter climbed down from the carriage and looked around. The whole village felt tense. No one came close to them but everyone kept watching them.

Kaelen reached into his coat and pulled out a folded map. He spread it across the side of the carriage.

The northern roads were marked clearly enough, but everything beyond the western border was little more than rough sketches. The forest covered most of the page, with almost no trails drawn through it.

He studied it for another moment before looking at Peter. "You say you know things. So tell me, do you know a way into those woods?"

Peter stepped closer and looked over the map. "No. Not really."

He ran his fingers through the map. "Most maps aren't much use once you cross the border."

Kaelen clicked his tongue. "Worthless."

Peter pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "The locals might know."

"I don't care what the locals know."

"They've lived here longer than either of us."

Kaelen folded the map halfway. "They'll just lie to us."

"Not all of them might."

"They'll waste my time. I don't have time to waste."

Peter smiled a little. "Then let me waste mine."

Kaelen looked at him without saying anything.

"I'm starting to think I might be better at talking to people than you are," Peter continued. "You literally walk into a room and everyone either hides or... reaches for a weapon. So if I talk with them, they're likely to tell me things they won't tell you."

Kaelen couldn't argue with that.

He let out a slow breath. "You've got one hour."

Peter blinked. "Only one?"

"One."

"What if it takes longer to get the information we need?"

"Then you find a way to make sure it doesn't."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "You've never tried getting information out of drunk hunters, have you?"

"I've never needed to."

Peter laughed quietly. "Fair enough."

Kaelen rolled the map back up and tucked it into his coat. "I'll be in the nearest tavern."

He nodded toward a building farther down the street. Warm light spilled through its windows, and loud voices drifted out every time the door opened. "When you're done, meet me there."

"And what if I couldn't find anything?" Peter asked.

Kaelen shrugged. "Then we ride on till we find another way."

"Okay then. I'll be back," Peter said.

Without another word, Kaelen walked toward the tavern.

People moved aside before he reached them.

No one wanted to stand in his path.

Peter watched him disappear through the tavern door before turning toward the rest of the village.

"Well," he muttered to himself, "here goes nothing."

~

The tavern was warmer than the street but only by a little.

Smoke hung beneath the low ceiling. Wet coats were draped over chairs near the fire. The smell of ale, mud, and damp leather filled the room.

Kaelen found an empty table in the corner and sat with his back against the wall.

The serving woman walked over, stylishly swaying her hips. "What will you be having sir?"

"Ale." Kaelen said.

She placed a mug in front of him without asking for payment first.

Kaelen took a drink and looked around.

The room was filled with hunters and traders. Some were arguing over cards. Others spoke quietly over their drinks. A few glanced toward him before quickly looking away.

Outside, Peter started asking questions.

Most people ignored him. Some told him to leave them alone. Others demanded money before they would speak.

Peter expected that.

He wasn't looking for the loudest people in the village. He was looking for the oldest hunters.

Peter found them sitting beneath a wooden shelter beside the stables. There were five of them, all older men with weathered faces and patched hunting clothes. None of them looked happy.

Peter stepped closer with an easy smile. "Mind if I join you?"

One of the hunters looked him over. "Depends."

"On what?"

"What you're buying for us."

Peter laughed and reached into his pocket. He placed a few silver coins on the table. "A round for everyone."

That changed their mood.

The oldest hunter pushed his empty mug toward him. "Now you're speaking my language."

A few minutes later, fresh drinks arrived.

The men talked about trapping, broken wagons, and the bad weather. Peter listened to them more than he spoke. He laughed when they laughed and let them finish every story before asking another question.

Only after the second round did he finally ask what he had come for.

"I'm looking for the Boreas Woods." He said.

The table fell quiet.

One of the hunters sighed. "I was wondering when you'd ask."

Another shook his head. "If you've got any sense, you'll stay away from there, kid."

Peter smiled. "Unfortunately I cannot stay away."

The oldest hunter leaned forward. "Those woods are strange."

"You've been inside?" Peter asked.

"Once." The hunter said.

"And?"

The old man stared into his drink for a moment. "My brother didn't come out with me."

No one laughed after that. Another hunter scratched his beard.

"Those woods are simply haunted."

The hunter reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of old parchment. He spread it across the table and picked up a piece of charcoal.

"But if you're determined to enter then you should know this, The old trail starts here." He drew a rough line. "It follows the ravine." He drew another line. "You'll reach two standing stones." He marked them with simple shapes. "Pass between them."

"And then?" Peter asked.

"Keep moving."

"That's all?" Peter asked again.

The hunter nodded.

"If you leave the trail, you'll be spending the next days walking in circles."

Peter watched carefully as the old man finished the sketch.

It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.

"Thank you," Peter said honestly.

The hunter folded Peter's fingers around the paper.

"Listen to one more thing."

Peter looked up.

"If things in the woods start talking to you..." He paused. "...don't answer."

~

By the time Peter returned to the tavern, the fire had burned low.

Kaelen was still sitting in the same chair.

He looked up as Peter hurried over. "You're late."

"I know. Sorry. These hunters weren't easy to convince." Peter unfolded the sketch across the table. "But I got something."

Kaelen studied the drawing without speaking.

The trail was rough, but it showed landmarks that weren't on his own map.

"The ravine," Kaelen said.

Peter nodded. "And these too."

"The standing stones." Kaelen looked at him. "Who drew this?"

"An old hunter."

"Can he be trusted?"

"I think so."

"You think?"

Peter smiled. "Or he could've taken my money and told me nothing."

Kaelen looked at the map one last time before folding it. "Good enough."

Peter let out a quiet breath. "So what next?."

"We leave now."

Peter blinked. "Tonight?"

"The witch hunt won't wait until morning." Kaelen said, standing up.

Within minutes they were back on the road.

The village lights disappeared behind them as the carriage rolled west.

The farther they traveled, the quieter the world became.

The muddy road narrowed until it became little more than two worn tracks between the trees.

Tall pines stood on both sides. Their branches blocked most of the moonlight, leaving the road covered in shadows.

Peter pulled his coat tighter. "I don't like the vibe I'm getting from this tracks."

Kaelen didn't reply. He had noticed something too. The quietness.

No birds.

No wolves.

Not even the sound of insects.

Only the wheels of the carriage and the horse's steady breathing.

After another mile, the road dipped into a narrow ravine. Large stones stood on either side like guards.

Peter looked at them. "And those must be the popular standing stones."

Kaelen slowed the horse.

He guided the carriage between them and the moment they crossed, something changed in the atmosphere.

Peter rubbed his arms. "Did you feel that?"

Kaelen's grip tightened on the reins.

Then he heard something. Not through his ears but Inside his head.

A woman's voice.

Soft and Calm.

Close enough to make him think she was standing beside him.

"Left... turn left."

He stared into the darkness between the trees.

"Turn left and come find me, Hunter."

His jaw tightened.

Peter noticed him staring. "Master Hound?"

Kaelen didn't answer right away.

He kept his eyes on the forest ahead.

Then he flicked the reins. "We're going in directly. And I'm sure as hell not turning this wagon left."

The carriage rolled deeper into the Boreas Woods as the darkness closed behind them.

~