Book Seven: Chapter 63

It was almost two in the afternoon when the quads came to a halt for lunch. It had been a slow, steady climb up the slope of Haleakalā, and the teams had been forced to stop on numerous occasions to either slash back the undergrowth or find an alternative way up the path. Mike groaned as he slid out of the driver’s seat, his legs feeling like lead.

Quetzalli had informed Mike early on that the trail absolutely looked to be dragon made. The trench they were following back to its lair was likely from its tail, which had flattened out the terrain. Based on her assumptions, this dragon was larger than she had been. The rain had already washed out large portions of the trail, and the quads had gotten stuck on two occasions due to mud.

Wallace had pulled one of the bags from his quad and was handing out lunch to everyone while Ingrid refilled canteens. The shade of the forest kept them cool, but the humidity was a force to be reckoned with. None of the cryptids seemed to have