How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [27]
“You’ve been to Hazel’s?” Lucky asked.
“She lives straight down that trail.”
Greg couldn’t bear the thought of separating from the others under any circumstance, let alone to go off looking for a witch—especially a witch who could best be described as non-threatening, and then only if she liked you.
“Say, I think you were right about night not being far off,” he said. “Maybe we should think about setting up camp.”
“It always looks like this near the Shrieking Scrub,” said Nathan, “but it’ll turn even darker soon. You’ll want to get moving right away so you can be back before nightfall. I wouldn’t want to be caught dead in the Shrieking Scrub after dark, and that’s exactly what will happen if you delay much longer.”
“B-but what about dinner?” Greg asked. He actually didn’t think he could eat a bite, but he would certainly be willing to try.
To his relief Lucky said, “I’m hungry too. Maybe we should eat now and camp for the night. Then Greg can get a fresh start to Hazel’s first thing in the morning.”
Greg was quick to agree. “It’s not wise to talk to witches without a good night’s rest,” he guessed.
“I suppose you’re right,” said Nathan. He looked around at the lifeless surroundings. “But what do we do for dinner?”
Lucky pulled his special pack from his shoulder and offered his trademark grin. “Leave that to me. I think I saw something good in here earlier.”
After dinner they looked for a comfortable place to camp for the night. The best they could find was a shallow depression half concealed by the charred remains of a fallen tree. The ground was smoking in the area, which Greg took to be a bad sign, but Lucky assured him it would be fine. Of course, Greg knew Lucky was only assuming things would work out because of the prophecy, but Nathan, too, said the spot was okay, so Greg was outnumbered two to one.
While Lucky rolled out bedding for Greg and himself, Nathan simply settled on the hard ground, closed his eyes, and dropped off in an instant, oblivious of the cold. The shadowcat draped itself across Greg’s neck, just below his chin, and once Greg decided the creature wasn’t trying to strangle him, he was grateful for the warmth it provided. Darkness fell quickly, as if someone had flipped a switch, shutting off even the light from the moon. All was quiet for a time, until an ear-piercing scream suddenly split the air.
Greg bolted upright and screamed nearly as loudly.
“That’s why they call it the Shrieking Scrub,” Lucky informed him. “Don’t worry. It can’t hurt us here.”
“Uh-huh,” Greg said, easing back to the ground. He lay awake, waiting for his pulse to slow for a minute or so before another scream rang out and caused him to jump up again. Nearby Lucky was already snoring loudly. No doubt he and Nathan were unconcerned about their plight, secure in the knowledge that the prophecy would carry them through any peril the Shrieking Scrub might offer.
But when Greg rolled over between shrieks, crackling some twigs beneath his bedroll, Nathan snapped awake. “That you, Greghart?” he heard Nathan say through the darkness.
Although he knew Nathan was trying to be helpful, Greg found the disembodied voice nearly as unnerving as the shrieks. Still it would have been hard for him to feel less comfortable than he already did. “Do you have to call me that? It’s Greg.”
“What’s the problem? Can’t sleep?”
“I guess I’m a little nervous about going to see the witch.”
“Ah, and well you should be.”
Greg frowned. Nathan had a lot to learn about putting someone at ease.
“Hazel is a very powerful woman,” Nathan continued. “I doubt you’ll ever face a more dangerous opponent.”
Greg searched for a glimpse of Nathan’s face but could see only darkness. “Um, when did she become my opponent?”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But you would be wise to use caution when you deal with her. She’s sure to try to deceive you.”
“But why?”
“She’s a witch.”
Somehow the blackness found a way to press harder against Greg’s eyes.