Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Let’s keep our heads here, everybody. Things are getting a bit strange.
I gave the shivering birch a wider berth, thankful when it stopped moving. The night fell quiet once again, the screaming imposter taking a break for a moment. The field lay before me, coated in moonlight.
I scanned the area beyond the clearing. Nothing moved. No other trees shivered.
A backward glance—with narrowed eyes at that birch—and all was equally clear. No bodily warnings of danger approaching, no feeling of eyes on me. It was now or never.
Dagger back in its holster and pocketknife at the ready, I scanned the plants as I carefully made my way through them. Most herbalists would call them weeds. But most herbalists were faeries, and they stuck their noses up at plants they couldn’t grow. Or so people said. No one in the village had seen one for sixteen years.
Of course, that didn’t stop the faeries from seeking them out. Everlass was the most potent healer in all the kingdoms. And guess what? It only grew in lands ruled or maintained by dragon shifters. Suck on that, faeries.
Even though this kingdom was basically in stewardship of the demon king because of the curse, it still had the magic of the dragons. Most of the nobility had been killed soon after the mad king perished, but the everlass remained unscathed. All we had to do was learn to work with it.
I’d always thought it was romantic. Without the presence of dragons, the everlass wouldn’t sprout from the soil. It was like the protective dragon magic infused the very fibers of the ground we walked on and gave the everlass courage to take the leap.
This plant was regal. Regal meaning incredibly fussy and hard to work with. If you were too rough or hasty in your ministrations, it would shrivel and reduce in potency. It demanded focused and careful attention, if not love.
And I did love it. Why wouldn’t I? It was saving my village.
I freed only the largest and healthiest of the leaves, being careful not to upset the seed pods that would ensure new life when the time came. As I went, I pruned any dead or dying leaves, of which there were very few.
I tucked the leaves into my sack, allowing them room. It wasn’t good to bunch them together so soon after harvesting. They worked better when they had a little space to breathe, like the plants themselves. If I didn’t have to worry about being chased, attacked, and eaten, I’d carry the leaves home in a big tray, none of them touching their neighbor.
When my bag was full, I straightened up and swept my gaze over the field. I wondered how many other people snuck into this place to use it. I’d never seen anyone else, but the plants were properly pruned and managed. That spoke of a group of caring, knowledgeable people, probably from the other villages. I’d seen what happened to the plants of my neighbors who didn’t do their due diligence. They grew wild and unruly.
I wasn’t the only one who showered these plants with love. Not surprising, but still, it warmed my heart. I hoped the other villages were at least faring as well as we were.
A whinnying owl call startled me out of my reverie. I pinched my face, listening. It was off to the side, decently close. That wasn’t startling in itself—it sounded pissed off, but it could just be mad at its mate or another bird. Maybe it had noticed a little critter making its way across the ground or something, I didn’t know. I wasn’t an owl behavioral expert. No, what was startling was that it was the first time I’d heard that sort of owl in the Forbidden Wood.
A shivering birch, and now an owl. What was going on tonight?
Whatever it was, I didn’t like it.
Be quiet now, everyone. If we’re sneaky-sneaky, no one will bother us.
I pivoted where I stood and put on a burst of speed, still picking my way through the plants with care but doing it as fast as I possibly could.
A soft chuff caught my attention and flooded me with a fearful chill. My flight reflex very nearly had me hiking up my pants and sprinting through the wood like some sort of hobgoblin.
Was it the beast? Something else? Maybe it didn’t matter. The sound had come from a larger animal, and anything that large in this wood was a predator of some kind.
I let my breath out very slowly. The animal was southwest of me, in the same direction as the owl’s outburst, but closer.
I looked down at the pocketknife clutched in my shaking hand. That weapon was not going to cut it.
Damn it, now I was thinking in dad jokes.
Straining my eyes, I watched for movement as I grabbed the blade to fold it away. Watched to see if anything interrupted the shards of soft moonlight piercing the shadows. The still night didn’t reveal its secrets.