Chapter 187 – The Unspoken Hurt (V)

Chapter 187

The Unspoken Hurt (V)

The night was quite a ways colder and darker than any of the ones before we experienced. The temperatures dropped well below zero–in fact, it quickly started reminding me of that dreaded weekend Yas and I got lost while hiking at the PCT; we were young and we were dumb, and we thought it would make for a fun story, so we decided to take off during the mid-summer from the Mexican border and try and cross to Oregon, at least.

The beginning was fine–I mean, the trail was rugged and kind of hard, but it was, you know, California. Besides dropping a lot of $ on sunscreen, it was mostly just battling the scorch and hiding in the shade, for the most part moving before midday and in the evening to nightfall.

However, by the time fall rolled around, we were tired, and we were deep. I don’t think we were even entirely sure exactly where we were on the trail–Yas was convinced that we were at Oregon’s border, probably at the Klamath Mountains, while I was convinced that we were actually deeper and in the Three Sisters Wilderness.

Our already fighting spirits escalated, and we must have missed a poorly marked sign or one obscured by the fallen pine tree needles, but we realized… we were lost. Suddenly, it didn’t really matter where exactly in the trail we were, because all forests at night, at least to me, look the same. Just a whole lotta strewn rocks and trees, and weather to match.

The night fell, and as though there was a cold snap, the temps dropped massively. It didn’t help that the somewhat summer-like rain turned into icy hail, so much so that our tent got freakin’ shredded. That’s when we realized that a tent that was somewhat good at insulating from the heat was not good at beating back scathing winds and hail.

We were lost for about four days until we luckily stumbled upon a Forest Service road and flagged down a pickup, deciding to call it quits. Never did make it to even central Oregon (turns out that she was right as to where we were), much less Washington, but it did make for a fantastic story as to why we never went for full-thru hikes again. Only small, known trails that have a visible end and beginning, and nothing else.

Anyway, since Long Tao was guiding us, I didn’t think we’d get lost–but I was a bit concerned over the weather. Mountains, especially, were notorious for having mood swings when it comes to weather–one day it’ll be sunny and peachy, and the next… well, the next you feel like you have to light yourself on fire just to feel warm.

I once again resorted to using Art of Surviving to stay somewhat warm, and we mostly stuck to the shadows and shade until we reached the far edge of the castle, where Lilia and Zhu were waiting for us. I’d already informed them, though I didn’t expect them to be waiting so… openly.

Both seemed rather eager to depart, so we skipped the chit-chat; if anyone here was looking forward to taking down the monster hiding in the mountains, it was these two.

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If the castle was cold and dark, then the mountain was, well, hell. At some point, no matter how much I pushed Art of Surviving, I was simply cold. Not shivering-stages cold, thankfully, but cold enough that it was annoying.

Like that feeling when you wake up early in the morning because it’s slightly cold, but not cold enough to warrant another blanket or turning on the heating? And you fix it by just huddling up with your knees into your chest?

Bad thing I can’t walk like that.

As far as seeing things goes, I abandoned that notion a long time ago. We didn’t want to risk anything, so we didn’t start a fire or use some shamanic spell to conjure a sphere of light or anything of the sort.

Moonlight?