Nyx's Revenant Abstract 2

BY Hardikkumar Joshi PUBLISHED Sep 26, 2020

Irilleth looked at the number of wounds he had scratched on his hand and remembered the pattern.

He sat on the damp soil, closed his eyes and tried to recall his hunting techniques. Mark looked up at the moon and as soon as a cloud drifted blocking the moonlight; he took his knife out and grazed his hand with the knife once again.

Mark concentrated on the pattern of the wounds and calculated the time it would take for the hound to stop the Shifting and how far the hound could have already gone. Looking up at the moon, he calculated the time he had to rest. He ruffled through his backpack and found his journal.

It was an old red torn cover weakly binding small yellow pages together. Bound in red leather, cracked and dry with age, the thin volume smells faintly of damp dust and leaves.

The pages within were brittle and the remains of the book’s original stitching barely held it together.

He could feel the spiky edge of the breeze that assailed the serene landscape. The blue moon illuminated the tenebrous, starless sky as if the stars ensconced themselves behind the dim, gray clouds.

Shadows crept through the stolid, craggy peaks of the granite-speckled mountains.

Every moon has a tale attached he murmured.

The nights before the full moon, his mother would scream and utter words unknown, and then, she would disappear into the forest. Then one day, she had scrambled into his sister’s cradle, hovering in the air and staring at with her beady crimson eyes and maroon hair. His mother hollering at him in the blazing hut when the wolves came and dragged her into the moor and a shriek tore through the night.

His sister had disappeared too, and her corpse had been found lying in the hearth. Mark gazed into the night sky and the shadows winked back at him, snorty otherworldly creatures watching him. Suddenly, his body quivered as he heard a faint whisper: Viola. The call was from within, yet he could feel it reverberate inside him.