Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Trees seemed to ghost by me in the darkness. My breath came in fast pants. A few bushes caught my eye in certain configurations that looked familiar. Ferns were interspersed within the plants, and I recognized a bush with purple flowers.
Left! The path to Granny’s was left.
I emerged onto it with a sigh that was short lived.
Vicious growls tore through the night. Baying. Loud whimpering-screams. They were battling somewhere to my right.
My heart shoved up into my throat. I worried they might’ve found Granny.
I dropped my pack and ran faster, with only the lantern now, the light bobbing and jiggling. Little shadows played across the path, hinting of uneven ground and rocks. I avoided them as best I could, hitting one but not going down. Around the bend and the trees started to thin a little, letting in a little of the weak light from the sky. Further along and they continued to clear, the moon and starlight giving me a shimmery view of what awaited me.
Granny’s cottage sat in the little clearing, a stump outside with an axe sticking out of it. A woodpile was stacked neatly a little way behind it. Smoke curled up from the chimney and the area around it lay quiet. Still.
“Oh thank the gods their mercy,” I whispered, not slowing. I chanced a look to either side as I passed, seeking out any hulking forms that might be waiting in the shadows. Looking for any evidence that the enemy had been here.
Nothing seemed out of place. I felt no strange presences or danger. No watchful eyes. Still, butterflies exploded through my middle in anticipation.
Nearing the cottage, I slowed and veered so I wasn’t headed toward the windows. Closer still and I doused the lantern, just in case.
Then I grabbed that axe—also just in case.
I hadn’t had to exert real violence in fifteen years and hadn’t killed anyone in just as long. That didn’t mean I wasn’t capable of it anymore. I might not have genuine magic, but I had the innate ability to survive, and nothing, man or beast, would stand in my way of that. I’d proven it before, and I’d prove it again if necessary.
I hoped it wasn’t necessary.
My limbs shook. My grip on the handle was too tight.
I put the lantern just outside the door, grabbed the door handle, and paused for a deep breath. A moment later I was action, ripping the door open and stepping through, expecting to see Granny in the chair by the fire or the room empty. Instead, several large figures crowded the space.
They turned as one just as I spied what they’d been looking at.
In the corner, with curled hair and a mangled face, lay the woman who’d saved me. Who’d taken me in when no one else would even speak to me. Who’d given me a home, a job, a life.
Her clothes were in tatters, ripped through with claws or teeth. A limb was severed. Blood had stopped flowing from the deep gash in her throat.
Dead.
My world spun in dizzying circles. The need to be sick clawed up my throat. I wanted to scream, to rage, to faint. All I could do was stand there, though, staring at the mangled and disfigured form of my last remaining family member. The only person in the world who had cared about me.
One of the enemies reached forward to grab me as emotional agony screamed through me. Adrenaline followed.
With a wordless howl, I launched into the small area. My axe came down hard, breaking bone and sticking into flesh. Blood splattered my face, my hair, painting my clothes like a scarlet canvas. The name Red would now take on a much darker tone.
I yanked the axe free as though my strength had doubled and swung at the next, who rushed toward me. I lodged it into his chest and punched over it, hitting his nose. His head snapped back, giving me time to yank the axe head free and throw it between the first two toward a third. It stuck in her chest and surprise lit her face. She looked down with her hands spread out, as though she couldn’t fathom how the axe had gotten there.
I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find—unfortunately, just a knitting needle—and prepared to pay them their due. I turned toward the first guy, who was struggling to stand. These people were tough. Usually, the first vicious wound would send most people scattering.
I held the needle aloft as the door swung open behind me, a blast of air invading the small, musty space. With it came the most mouth-watering smell: sun-warmed sandalwood with hints of jasmine and peppered with forbidden sin.
Forbidden sin was not a smell, and yet, that’s what my brain made of it, something I might have ignored when I thought I was hallucinating.