Ruin (The Ruin Saga Book 1) Read Free

Somewhere high above, a crow cawed and took flight. The sound of movement was carried on the wind, off to their right. Something was pushing through dense shrubbery not sixty feet from them. It was moving through towards the junction, towards the stag’s corpse.
    Norman, Allie and Lucian tracked the noise with pricked ears for over a minute before it died without warning, to be replaced by an anguished groan.
    Norman shuddered as the hairs on his neck stood on end despite the stifling heat of the campsite. But it wasn’t until a second source of rustling emanated from the opposite direction, followed by yet more groaning, that the beginnings of fear stirred in his gut. The noise carried and echoed in the forest, warped by the breeze into a ghostly wail.
    Lucian gestured to the horses, then to the small path they had cleared, leading away from the camp and along the edge of the cliff.
    The groaning had once again been replaced by the sound of movement. But it was pitiful now, a mere rustle, and grew no closer. Then from the distance came a single pained cry, deafening in the strained hush. For a moment there was silence, save for the chattering of a flock of passing gulls and the booming of the waves far below.
    And then another cry answered, far louder and nearer than the first, emanating from just a few yards away—beyond the screening of ash and elm that shielded the campsite from view.
    Norman took a steadying breath, glancing at the horses, and then looked to Allie and Lucian. He raised his hands, moving them in a deft series of predetermined signals:
    What do you see?
    After a pause, they both signed back:
    Nothing.
    Norman cursed.
    Which way?
    Lucian replied:
    Straight ahead.
    Norman stared into the trees until his eyes ached from the strain, but he too could see nothing. Despite the slithering fear in his gut, he began to inch towards the trees, followed closely by Lucian, with Allie creeping at the rear. Now even the tiny and unavoidable noises that he produced seemed amplified, and each one made him wince with dread.
    The groaning came again, and this time it was very close—only feet away. They froze in the underbrush and listened until it came again, so near that it sent them flinching backwards, solid as a gale.
    Once again, despite his apprehension, Norman found himself moving forward. Lucian’s harshly whispered warning did nothing to slow his pace, and together the three of them advanced on the source of the noise.
    When Norman heard the groan a final time, he gasped. It had come from directly below him. He looked into the ferns at his feet and saw somebody staring up at him through a screen of underbrush.
    It was a man, or at least had been. His body was deathly pale, so emaciated that his face was no more than a skull clothed in skin, his ribs protruding at an extreme angle.
    The three of them looked down at him as he met their gaze. A tiny groan escaped his throat. He reached forward with skeletal fingers but could scarcely manage a few inches from the ground. “Please,” he said. His voice was tiny, defeated. “P-Please…help us.”
    Another groan rang out from behind them. Norman whirled to see another deflated body, prone beside the trunk of a nearby tree, too ruined for its gender to be discernible. Then he saw the others—over a dozen people strewn across the ground. Some lay still, putrefying, but others called out, reaching for the newcomers.
    In the distance, he could hear the whimpers and groans of many more. Norman backed away from them, unspeaking.
    “Please,” the man below him repeated. He was still trying to reach for them, but could no longer lift his hand from the ground.
    Norman turned to the other two:
    Let’s go.
    Allison’s young, rounded face softened. This time signing was unnecessary. Her response was obvious from her eyes alone:
    We can’t.
    Lucian and Norman exchanged a glance, and Lucian gave him the tiniest of nods. Together, they took Allie by the shoulders. She