Paladin Prophecy 2: Alliance by Mark Frost Page A

next small rise, they came upon the discarded head and chewed bones of what must have been a squirrel. Then, thirty yards on, the remains of a large crow, feathers scattered.
    “He’s hungry,” said Jericho.
    “Eating crow,” said Will. “Literally.”
    “Not as much fun as it sounds,” said Jericho.
    “Why didn’t he just head for a supermarket?”
    Will was hoping for at least a smile, but Jericho didn’t respond. In fact, he looked a little worried, Will thought. Which probably means he’s a lot worried on the inside, which was not a warm and fuzzy feeling to have spring up in the middle of these woods. It was early afternoon on a hot sunny day in June, but in here it felt as dark and gloomy as Halloween.
    Will heard the hollow keen of a hawk or falcon circling somewhere far overhead. Jericho heard it, too. They looked up—Will could barely see the sky through the trees—then at each other. Will’s hand reached for the stone falcon figurine in his pocket, and felt better as soon as his fingers gripped its familiar contours.
    Jericho nodded at him. Will knew exactly what he was thinking: Your spirit animal is nearby. We’re on the right path.
    “If you say so,” said Will, under his breath.
    Will led the way as they started walking along the “path” ahead of them. He picked up a strong heat signature, confirming that something massive had passed this way, the Grid growing ever more vivid in his mind. They mounted the next rise and discovered that the ground dropped steeply from there into a deep round hollow.
    At its bottom, in a shaft of sunlight cutting through the trees, lay the body of a deer, an eight-point buck. On his Grid, Will saw ghostly patterns of movement, streaked and smudged. He realized it was the echo of what had happened here, the energy so powerful that it had imprinted on time-space. It was almost too fast to follow, but he could make out the buck bounding through the woods, spooked and panicked. It stopped for a moment only yards from where they were standing, then was ambushed and dragged down by a large indistinct form bursting toward it out of a thicket.
    Sickened by the violence—a quick, savage evisceration—Will staggered against a tree, righting himself before nearly falling over. He didn’t want to see the rest of what lingered here, looking over at Jericho and shaking his head.
    Will hung back, eyes averted as Jericho examined what was left of the deer’s carcass. Not much remained other than hooves and horns, the ground around it black with drying blood. On a nearby branch, Will found a torn patch of white cotton fabric, dyed a deep red.
    “He’s working his way up the food chain,” said Will, breathing deeply to stay calm.
    “Fast,” said Jericho.
    “Still think this is a good idea, Coach?”
    “It won’t be much farther.”
    “What won’t?”
    “Before we find him,” said Jericho.
    “Or he finds us.”
    “Why, are you worried we can’t handle him?”
    “What do you mean ‘we’?” asked Will, then pointed behind them back toward school. “I’ll be the guy running that way.”
    Fifty yards on they came to another short rise, the forest so thick around them now they were nearly in darkness. From the crest of this rise, the slope fell away into a rocky ravine, about twenty feet deep, carved by a thick slow-moving creek through its center. There, lying facedown half in the water, a still figure in a white coat stood out in the gloom like a patch of snow.
    Will and his coach froze. He glanced at Jericho, hoping he’d know what to do, and whispered, “Is he’s trying to trick us? Playing possum?”
    “Only one way to find out,” said Jericho.
    Coach started down the ravine, holding on to roots pushing out of the slope to maintain his balance. Will didn’t follow until Jericho turned halfway down and shot him a withering look. “Coming, West?”
    Coach waited for Will at the base of the incline and together they walked cautiously toward the body