a/n: this one gave me trouble. still dunno if i like it. it was supposed to go up along with 16. ah well.
have fun!
Roran shivered as he walked into the forest.
It was dark—even though it was still morning. The canopy was thick overhead, hiding the sky.
Every time Roran came into the Spine, Eragon was already there. It didn't matter when. Somehow, the younger boy always knew when Roran was coming.
Not this time, Roran thought with a twist of his lips, staring at the conspicuously empty spot where Eragon would usually occupy as he walked in.
Roran debated on gong any further. He had never gone deeper into the Spine without Eragon as his guide.
Many stories were were told about the Spine. Stories of whole families going missing because they camped too close to the forest's edge. There was a story of Galbatorix losing an entire army within the forest after going in search of a fugitive (it was one of the main reasons why Galbatorix avoided sending too many men on this side of the mountain—some would call it a blessing).
Each story always ended with someone never being seen again.
Quincey once told a tale of seeing hands reaching out from between the trunks for him. White and skeletal, reaching to drag him in. At the time, Roran believed him to be too drunk to know his fingers from a bottle neck, but now that he was here, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been telling the truth. His mind was running wild with imaginations. Were those eyes watching him? Or was that just in his head?
Roran shivered. I have got to get out of here.
"Eragon?" he called. The forest was dark and foreboding, leaving behind a cold feeling that seeped under his skin. As expected, there was no answer.
I'll come back another time. He turned, intent on getting out of the forest.
Only for the sound of rustling leaves to come to his ears.