After spending an excruciating twenty minutes in Ort's treehouse, Jack, with an air of frustration, attempted to pry open the intricately carved wooden door, only to find it frustratingly locked.
"When did he lock this cursed door?" Mary grumbled, her patience wearing thin.
"He didn't, lass. This 'ere door's got some fancy contraption that locks itself once it's sealed right. The nitty-gritty details slip me mind, but mark me words, there be always a passage," Jack explained, rummaging through his weathered leather pouch.
With a wicked grin, he retrieved his prized possession – a skeleton key, a devilish contraption crafted to pick the most stubborn of locks. Holding it high for all to see, he boasted, "There ain't a door that this trusty skeleton key can't unlock!"
Approaching the door with a mix of arrogance and precision, Jack crouched down, skillfully inserting his pick into the keyhole. With a series of calculated twists, pushes, and forceful jabs, he expertly manipulated the lock.
In no time, the door surrendered to Jack's expertise, swinging open to reveal the hidden secrets that lay beyond. Jack shot a triumphant glance at Mary, who silently acknowledged their victory. She gently pushed the door open, revealing the mysterious world that awaited them.
Satisfied with his victorious feat, Jack swiftly stashed away his tools in his pouch, ensuring they were safely concealed. He then sauntered out of the treehouse with a swagger, Mary trailing closely behind.
To their utter astonishment, each treehouse in the vicinity emitted a warm, eerie glow, courtesy of the flickering candles housed in crude metal frames. The rickety bridges and platforms connecting the treehouses were also adorned with the dim, ethereal light of countless candles.
The sheer abundance of candles created an illusion of daylight, mocking the darkness of the night and adding a twisted challenge to their clandestine escapade.
Mary quietly shut the door behind them, and they ventured forth along the creaking platform, making their way to the nearest ladder that led to a lower level.
Descending the ladder to the second platform, they couldn't help but notice the conspicuous absence of life. The once bustling area now resembled a desolate ghost town, devoid of any signs of human presence.
"Why in the blazin' depths do ye reckon they're so scared stiff of those blasted wolves? Them mangy creatures can't climb up a cursed ladder," Mary pondered aloud, her voice edged with both curiosity and frustration.
Jack rubbed his head, lost in contemplation, before replying, "Well, lass, it might be some twisted tradition they stick to. Mayhaps they're all a bunch of early-to-bed, early-to-rise types, or there might be some dark secret lurking behind these odd ways. Who knows?"
With that, they pressed on, venturing deeper into the eerie silence of the treehouse village. Their minds were consumed by a whirlwind of questions, their curiosity fueled by the allure of the unknown.
Upon reaching the ground area beneath the platforms, Jack turned to Mary and commanded, "Lead us to X."
Nodding in understanding, Mary took hold of the map and compass. After studying them for a brief moment, she pointed confidently in the designated direction.
They began their journey through the darkness, with only the faint glow of the tree-town above to guide their way.
The haunting echoes of wolf howls reached their ears, but neither of them flinched in fear. In fact, even if a hundred wolves were to descend upon them, they knew they possessed the means to escape unharmed. Jack's vine artifact could propel them to safety by shooting them up to a sturdy branch.
Suddenly, Jack's steps came to an abrupt halt as his eyes fell upon something peculiar etched onto one of the tree trunks. It bore a deep, claw-like mark, nearly half the width of the trunk itself.
Without uttering a word, he placed his hand against the mark, comparing its size to his own. The difference was staggering, with his hand appearing minuscule in comparison.
Intrigued, he mustered up the courage to delve deeper into the mystery. With a swift motion, he plunged his hand into one of the claw marks, finding that it was astonishingly deep, swallowing half his arm.
Retracting his hand, he glanced at Mary, whose expression mirrored his own astonishment. "Arr, no wolf could leave a mark like this," he declared, his voice laced with a mix of awe and trepidation.
Mary tentatively placed her small hand on the mark and suggested, "Methinks it be the doin' of a monstrous creature, Captain."
"'Tis possible, lass, but I've never laid me ears on such creatures from any soul 'round these parts. There be plenty o' tales, yet the truth of their existence stays shrouded in mystery. But mark me words, we best be wary from here on. It could be the work of a keen axe or the claw of a fearsome beast," he cautioned, his tone laden with a sense of dread.
"If it truly be a monster, Captain, I can unleash me powers upon it," she asserted confidently, her eyes gleaming with determination.
He arched a brow, contemplating her words. "If this mark be the sign of the beast's claw, one can only reckon the immense size of its frame. Yer powers might find little sway. Let's forge ahead, dig up the loot, and hasten back to our vessel with speed."
Mary nodded in agreement, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. "Ay ay, Captain. But, we find ourselves without a shovel."
A sly smile crept across Jack's face as he reminded her of his claw artifact. "Aye, worry not. I possess me trusty claws, which can serve as makeshift shovel if need be. Onward we go!"
Upon reaching the location marked by the X on the map, Jack's right hand underwent a transformation. His forearm expanded slightly, empowering his arm and granting him sharp, robust canine-like nails.
Meanwhile, Mary vigilantly scanned the surroundings for potential threats while Jack began excavating the soil with his newly strengthened hand.
Despite his initial confidence in its efficacy, the results disappointed him. The rate at which he could displace the earth resembled that of a dog's excavation efforts.
Refusing to relent, he accelerated his efforts, aiming to increase his digging speed. At this rate, he anticipated unearthing 1 meter or 3 feet of soil within a mere 20-minute interval.
After just 10 minutes of intense digging, the tranquility of the forest was disrupted by a sound of chilling howls reverberating through the darkened woods. It was the unmistakable chorus of a pack of wolves, numbering no fewer than ten and no more than twenty.
Reacting instinctively, Jack halted his excavation, acutely aware of the wolves' proximity based on the reverberating sound. They were dangerously close.
