Adrick's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The ridge trail climbed higher than Adrick expected. By midday, the path split in two, and he had no map to tell him which fork led to the caves. The sun was already sliding west. Pick wrong, and he'd be lost when night came. A leaning hovel sat in the crook of the split, vines swallowing its walls. Beside it stood a tall stack of smooth stones, balanced in impossible order. Adrick studied the cairn. Past travelers had scratched marks into the lower rocks — arrows, initials, a few crude warnings. Most arrows pointed left. One careful hand had carved a small skull pointing right. He almost took the left fork. Then a low cough stopped him. A shaggy green troll sat just off the right path, huge hands folded, watching him with worried eyes. It lifted one thick finger and pointed firmly down the right trail, then tapped its chest where a heart would be. Dangerous, the gesture said. But correct. Adrick swallowed hard. He trusted the skull and the troll over the crowd. He took the right fork, the harp-staff tight in his grip, and walked into the deeper shadow of the ridge before the light could fail him.