Chapter 37 Waiting Out the Storm

### Chapter 37: Waiting Out the Storm

The wind howled through the mountain pass, a furious gale that rattled the trees and sent shards of ice and stone tumbling from the cliffs. Rain pelted the earth, cold and unrelenting. The storm had rolled in swiftly, turning the once peaceful path into a treacherous, mud-soaked quagmire. Trill could barely make out the outline of the caravan through the rain, and his thoughts kept returning to the storm's ominous power.

"We'll need to find shelter," Bren said, her voice barely audible over the roar of the wind as she approached him. Her face was set with determination, but there was a weariness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. The mountains had a way of wearing you down, both physically and mentally.

"We don't have much choice," Trill replied, scanning their surroundings. The path ahead was nothing but a wall of rocks and fog. The storm was relentless and unforgiving. They were too far from the nearest settlement to keep pushing forward. "There's a cave up ahead," he said, pointing toward a dark opening in the cliff face. "We'll ride out the storm there."

Without further words, they guided their travel beasts toward the cave. The rest of the caravan followed, the wagons creaking as the rain lashed against them. The group's spirits were dampened—not just by the storm but by the constant threats they'd faced in the mountains. The wyvern was only the beginning. The unknowns of the range, with its towering peaks and hidden dangers, were as dangerous as the beasts that roamed it.

When they reached the cave, the shelter it offered was more than welcome. The mouth was large enough to fit the entire caravan, and it offered some protection from the howling storm outside. But even as they settled in, the sense of unease didn't fade. The storm wasn't the only thing that felt ominous.

The cave itself was dimly lit by the faint glow of Trill's alchemical lanterns, casting long shadows that seemed to shift with every gust of wind outside. Bren dismounted and began to tend to her travel beast, her eyes scanning the interior warily. Trill watched her for a moment, then turned to check on the rest of the group.

Lyra was busy organizing the guildmates, setting up makeshift barricades at the cave entrance with whatever materials they had at hand. The caravan merchant Arlen, on the other hand, was sulking by the back, too proud to ask for help but clearly afraid of the storm outside. Trill's eyes briefly met his, but he quickly turned away. Arlen had proven himself to be more of a liability than an asset in their journey, and Trill's patience with him was wearing thin.

"The storm doesn't look like it'll let up anytime soon," Lyra commented, her expression grim as she surveyed the cave's entrance.

"We'll wait it out," Trill replied, his voice calm despite the frustration that simmered beneath. The storm was more than just a weather event. It was as though something in the mountains itself was shifting, something that had awoken with the arrival of their caravan. Trill couldn't shake the feeling that the storm had an agenda—one that was tied to the strange creatures and ominous forces they'd already encountered.

Bren, meanwhile, had already started a fire in the center of the cave, using a few dried branches and some quick-thinking magic to coax it into a blaze. The warmth it provided was a welcome relief from the cold, but it did little to alleviate the tension in the air. The storm was more than just a physical barrier—it was a reminder that they were far from any safe haven.

As the fire crackled, Trill walked over to where Bren was kneeling. She was adjusting her gear, a slight frown on her face as she checked her weapons.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his tone soft but probing.

Bren didn't look up immediately, as if gathering her thoughts. Finally, she sighed and glanced at him. "I don't like this," she said. "The storm's one thing, but it feels like something else is coming. Like the mountains themselves are alive with waiting. I've never felt this way before."

Trill nodded. He'd felt it too. The presence that lurked just beyond the veil of the storm seemed to press in on them. Something was coming. It wasn't just the weather.

"What do you think it is?" she asked, her voice low but steady.

"Not sure," Trill replied, his gaze distant. "But whatever it is, I'm not sure we're ready for it."

Bren paused, her gaze flicking to the cave entrance. "You think we'll be able to get out of here once the storm's over?"

"That's the plan," Trill said, though even he wasn't fully convinced. The mountains were full of dangers, and the storm was only a symptom of something bigger.

As the hours passed, the storm outside only grew more violent. The howling wind turned into a deafening roar, and the rain battered the cave's entrance with unrelenting force. Trill sat by the fire, his mind racing through possibilities—anything that could explain the sense of dread creeping into his bones.

His thoughts were interrupted by a distant rumble—a sound that came not from the storm but from deep within the earth. The ground beneath their feet seemed to shudder, and for a moment, it felt like the entire mountain range was shifting. Bren's hand went to the hilt of her sword, her eyes scanning the darkened cave with renewed wariness.

"What was that?" she asked, her voice low but sharp.

Trill rose, his instincts kicking in. "We're not alone."

The others in the cave grew tense, glancing nervously toward the entrance. The air was thick with anticipation. Something was out there. Something powerful.

Suddenly, the ground trembled again. This time, it wasn't just the rumble of distant thunder—it was something closer. Something heavy. The sounds of scraping rock, followed by a deep, guttural growl, filled the cave.

"Get ready," Trill hissed, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Bren stepped forward, her molten blade glowing faintly in the darkness. Lyra drew her bow and took position by the entrance, her body tense as she scanned the cave mouth.

Then, from the darkness outside, they heard it. The unmistakable sound of claws scraping across stone. A low, growling voice. Something large was approaching.

"What is it?" Lyra asked, her voice steady but filled with apprehension.

Trill's heart raced. He didn't know what was out there, but the fact that it had been able to move so silently in this storm only made it more dangerous.

The growling stopped.

And then—**silence**.

The tension in the air was suffocating.

And then, a voice, low and gravely, drifted through the cave: "You cannot hide from the forest's will."

Trill's heart skipped a beat. The storm wasn't just weather. It was a warning. And the creature that approached them was the true storm they had been dreading.

The mountains had come alive, and they were ready to claim what they had been waiting for.

**To be continued...**