CHAPTER 9: THE PANIC AND THE COWARDLY RETREAT
Julian rolled down the slope, desperately trying to protect his head as he screamed in absolute panic. His wooden sled broke apart against a rock, sending splinters flying into the air. He scrambled to his feet a few yards down, his fancy winter jacket ripped open at the shoulder, his face completely pale and coated in white snow. He looked up the slope, his whole body shaking with a profound, primitive terror.
Barnaby stood right at the edge of the snowy ridge, silhouetted against the dark winter sky. His front paws were firmly planted, his neck extended as he let out a continuous, violent cascade of deep, echoing barks. He was ready to throw himself down the mountain to rip his enemy apart if they took one step back up.
Marcus and Leo, who had been laughing so loudly just moments before, were completely frozen at the top of the path. Their wooden sleds lay forgotten in the powder, their mouths hanging wide open. They looked at the massive, roaring guardian standing over Chloe, and then at Julian, who was desperately trying to climb further down away from the ridge.
"He's rabid! He's going to tear our throats out!" Marcus screamed, his voice breaking into a high-pitched, comical shriek.
May you like
"Run! Julian, forget the sleds! Just run!" Leo yelled, turning on his heel and sprinting down the trail as fast as his heavy boots could take him, slipping and sliding on the black ice.
Julian didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, leaving his expensive broken gear behind in the snow. He didn't look back once, his arms flailing wildly as he and his friends fled throug the blinding blizzard, their cowardly cries quickly fading into the howling mountain winds. The steep slopes of Whispering Hill were left completely silent once more, saved from the poison of their presence.
