Reading Trail Novels & Stories

~STEVIE~ I didn’t follow Reif. That was the point. If you follow a kid who’s trying to disappear, you turn him into a trail. You make him easier to track. You give the hunter a straight line to run and a reason to speed up. So I stayed.

“Are you guys going to be okay? They’ll know you helped me.” Vane shot me a small, grim smile, the kind that said they had their own ways out. “We’re quicker than they think. Now, go. The trail leads to the old creek. Follow the sound of the water, don’t look back.” I didn’t hesitate. I slipped through the gate, practically throwing myself onto the dirt trail. My heart was a pounding drum in my chest, and I stumbled over roots, mud splashes on my jeans, but I didn’t care. For the first time in weeks, I was moving under my own power.

But it was nice to believe. I moved through without sound. My breath stayed slow. Controlled. Each step measured. Forrest pressed close beneath my skin, not snarling, not begging to be let loose. He was quiet too. Focused and waiting. I searched for a little while, till I found the exact spot where I’d discovered the trail. Back then, I’d followed instinct. Tonight, I followed with certainty. The trail was still here, meaning they still came around.

“She left by herself.” I straightened slowly, my gaze tracking the direction of the prints. “They’re fresh,” I muttered. “Too fresh.” “Then we follow them,” Kieran said. I already was. We moved along the trail, slower now, and more deliberate. I watched every step, every shift in the ground, every broken twig, and the further we went, the clearer it became. This wasn’t right, because the tracks didn’t scatter. They didn’t hesitate, and they didn’t circle or double back. They just continued in a clean and straight line that was way too predictable, like they wanted to be followed.

"It's been two hours on the rock shelf." "Then it's been two hours." "Footprints don't disappear on rock because someone ceased to exist," he said. "They disappear because the terrain changed and the person kept moving." "I know how tracking works, Julian." "Then you know what it means when the trail goes northeast and drops off at the border shelf." I turned around. Julian was standing with his hands at his sides and his expression holding the particular tautness of a person maintaining patience at some personal cost. Behind him, two more of my scouts were working a grid pattern through the scrub grass, heads down, moving carefully.

As I head towards the track where the other spectators await the third and final race between my partner and my ex, I silently pray that everything else will go as planned tonight. Now that we've reached this part of the flashback, I should probably explain our plan... On second thought, no. Let's keep the element of surprise intact. Continue reading; it will all become clear soon. As I approach the metal fence separating the massive bleachers from the concrete race track, my phone chimes with a text notification, but it's not from Ryan. Clyde to My Bonnie: Are you okay? Did he catch us? Me: No, we're in the clear, but it was a close call. We need to stop exchanging affectionate looks before

Marcus pulled his bike alongside mine briefly before his voice crackled through the comm system. “Road coming up on the right.” I spotted it immediately. A narrow dirt trail nearly swallowed by dead brush and darkness. Easy to miss unless you knew exactly where to look. The Butterfield trail. Brian hadn’t lied. I jerked the bike hard onto the path without slowing down. Gravel exploded beneath the tires while the entire line of Daggers followed behind us instantly, engines roaring violently through the dark hills. Dust clouds kicked into the air around the bikes while dead branches scraped overhead as we tore deeper into the pass.

It was going to be nearly impossible to track his unusual herbal scent. I entered the thick forest anyway. I knew the northern trail perfectly, and I knew where the hurdles had been set up. I walked at a brutal, rapid pace, my eyes adjusting to the dark. I examined the muddy trail under the heavy rain. Most tracks led back toward the camp, but near a narrow bend in the path, I noticed a strange pattern. The mud on the main trail was heavily trampled by several wolves running close together, but there was a sudden divergence of tracks that looked messy and cluttered, like a scramble.

My focus is entirely on the trail, on finding Cheryl and bringing her back. I can feel the pack’s presence around me, their own scents blending with the fresh trails as they join the search. The woods are dark and dense, making it challenging to track, but I’m driven by the fear and love I have for Cheryl. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves makes my heart leap, hoping it’s a sign that we’re getting closer. Hours pass, and the frustration builds with every mile we cover. My paws ache from the relentless pace, but I push through, unwilling to give up. The bond with Cheryl is still faint, but it’s there, a thread connecting us that keeps me going.

I was the worst. Back at the house, Tracy was on the couch, her phone in hand. She looked up as we walked in, smiling but cutiosu. “There you are, what took you guys so long? I was about to send a search party.” I forced a laugh, kicking off my sneakers. “We followed a new trail which was longer than I thought. Got a bit lost in the scenery.” Greg nodded, casual as ever. “Yeah, that waterfall’s something else. Jess really does know her trails.”