CHAPTER SIXTY ONE

Harold's brows twitched at their edges as they knotted together in an intimidating frown. His breath, too, was mild and regular as sighs escaped through his lips and although he was in an unmoving stance like a statue, he was so in tune with the environment he was in—the forest, that he almost knew of every cricket that crawled past him on the earth and every bird that flew above them to safety.

His knees which were a little bent ached as he stood still but he paid no regard to it as he held his sharp knife tightly in his right hand like his life was banked on it, him and the others waiting for the wild animal—not ghoul, he hoped, to come out from behind the thick trees.

The only parts of his body which were moving were his heart which was pumping an incredible amount of adrenaline through his veins, ready to spring into action and his eyeballs which sometimes shifted to Derek who Harold thought had been behaving diffe