Reading Trail Novels & Stories

Pol stumbled at the re-crossing—she caught his arm and kept him upright and kept them moving. Second: the false trail. She had found this section of the route on the planning walk specifically—a rocky outcrop that would take her prints for thirty feet before the undergrowth resumed. She moved across it, kept Yena and Pol on it, angled hard west for twenty steps before doubling back east. Anyone following the trail would take the western angle and have to recover.

The traitor has simply opened the door. Before sunrise, I slip out through the western trail alone. The guards assume I am checking the perimeter. I let them believe it. Things are going to be easier that way. The ground is damp enough to preserve tracks left during the night. Most belong to our patrols. I find the prints of boots, claws and motorcycles. A single set of tire marks breaks away from the main trail. It is narrow and light, making me narrow my eyes at the whole thing. Whoever has been riding knows exactly how to avoid leaving an obvious trail.

“I’ll get back out there, sir.” Phone buzzed. Rocky. I ripped it up to my ear. “Rocky.” “We’re still searching, sir,” his voice rolled in. “We haven’t found much but we are running the trails we have so far against those from last night’s chase…” I shook my head. “No. No. Those were sloppy drivers… whoever took Maddison… they are professionals or they wouldn’t slip past Ausley like that,” Ausley is never sloppy; if he couldn’t realize he was being trailed until it was too late then those are trained trackers.

“What? Why? No, I don’t want to know we are getting off track. What did he tell you?” They filled me in on the information Ben shared about witch involvement and that all of our patrols took the information and ran with it, literally. The heaviest trail leads from the forest on our western border, across the waterfront, and towards the cave. Junior’s guys checked in and found trails that lead to the neutral territory. Ben also put Blue Moon and White Diamond on alert, but they have found nothing, and even though we have trails, we don’t have anyone to show for it.

EDAL The journey back down the western ridge took three full days. The mountain trails were narrow, slick with gray shale and packed ice, forcing us to lead the mules by their headstalls at a crawl. Dr. Helena walked in the center of our formation, surrounded by Rylan’s massive frame in the front and Ezra’s sharp ears tracking the perimeter from behind. She did not complain about the freezing wind or the rough terrain, but her eyes never stopped moving, cataloging every guard post and fallback line we passed on our approach.

It was power… too raw, too unrestrained. The kind that didn’t follow rules… but broke them. And still… his eyes remained locked on the sky. But beside him… Ira’s gaze slowly dropped. Her instincts shifted sharply. Something else had caught her attention. Her eyes narrowed. Then… She saw it. A trail. It was faint… but unmistakable. The grass wasn’t crushed in chaos, it was rather pressed down in a pattern. Dragged in a steady, uneven line. The soil beneath it disturbed, not by impact… but by weight being pulled.

"You're welcome." I sip the coffee, which is surprisingly good, and pretend not to notice how his gaze lingers on me before he turns back to packing. The day's tracking is easier than the previous days, in a way. Not because the terrain is simpler or the trail clearer, but because Garrett and I have fallen into a rhythm. He notices the physical signs—broken branches, disturbed earth, the subtle signs of passage. I sense the magical traces, the residual energy that clings to the wraith's path like a scent.

Since they knew today was likely to be a long day traveling, their pace was appropriate for a long-distance tracker. Because of their slow progress, they took longer to reach the canyon trail where they had been diverted the day before. The trail had taken up the better part of their day yesterday as they were exploring the path, having followed the strong scent of their mates’ urine. The urine scent was still overpowering, and the trail leading away was faint. It took several minutes for them to find the trail leading away from the canyon and as they started to move away they clued into the fact they couldn’t find any footprints.

Pack’s pack, Mara—hunt it, hold him. Lila’s charcoal scratched faster, hazel eyes wide, voice quick as she knelt by a pup, guiding their sketch. “Ridge has caves, Sam! Kael saw tracks last moon—big, weird ones.” Her hands shook slightly, Spark yipping, sharp. Track it, Lila! She stood, ponytail bouncing, holding up her map, voice bright but edged. “I’ll mark every path—promise!”

The trail started at the South Ridge. My nose was close to the ground, following a set of large footprints that didn’t belong there. South Ridge had already been conquered. It was mine so nobody should have been able to sneak past my men. But the prints were fresh. Someone had walked here not long ago, maybe hours, maybe less. The dirt smelled sharp, like sweat mixed with blood, and it made me twitch. I moved forward slowly, careful not to make any crunching sound on the gravel. I turned left and right, making sure I caught every trace of spy activities or if they were acting in a group of rebels.