Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
I didn’t mention that their organization would be hurried because of the magic, or that they obviously had private jets and transportation at their disposal so they wouldn’t dawdle. We still at least had a few days, minimum.
He reached out and took my hand. “At least we know. We’re not left guessing.”
“Silver lining.”
His presence was like a blanket of assurance. “It’s too late to head into the basajaun lands,” he said.
“Too early, you mean.”
“Too late in the afternoon, too early for our rendezvous.”
“Right, gotcha,” I muttered.
He squeezed my hand. “What do you say we give Niamh the all-clear, let her and the guys come in here for a little respite before the storm, and watch her handle that douche down the bar? It could be a fun distraction.”
“I’m definitely game for a distraction.”
“Well, in that case, when the fun has worn off here, I’ll find another means of distraction for you back at the hotel.”
A shiver ran through me. “Motel. Don’t expect anything fancy.”
“Right. Motel. As long as it has a bed, I don’t care if it’s a shack.” He reached around the other side to grab his phone.
“Don’t tell Mr. Tom I said so, but the spread on the jet was a little overboard,” I said as he pulled it in front of him. “We barely had room to put down plates or glasses with how much he’d spread all over the place. Half of it fell on the floor when we hit turbulence.”
“That’s between you and him. I definitely don’t want to say anything and have him panic. The last time he did that, he offered you chocolate-covered Ex-Lax. That’s the last thing you need before going hiking.”
“Ugh. I hadn’t thought about the bathroom situation. Do we dare hope the basajaunak have running water?”
“They definitely have running water. It runs all the way down the mountain and through the valley. They call it a stream.”
“Cute.”
“Sometimes it pools into…a lake.”
“Yeah. Got it. Thanks.”
“And sometimes, you’d better dig a hole, because I doubt they’ll let you contaminate their water source.”
“On second thought, a little space might be nice. From just you, though. Go ahead and call the others in. You can go.”
He laughed and called Niamh. She would have a new playground for the night.
The next morning, we entered the preserve through a tiny trail with no sign. The trailhead was about a mile away from the motel.
“Have we figured out what we should call the basajaun?” Ulric asked as we traveled in single file.
Customary to shifter protocol, the shifters took the front and rear. Broken Sue, the strongest besides Austin, took the rear, and Kace led in front. Austin stayed behind me, protecting me over the pack because he worried I was in the most danger.
The Ivy House crew walked within their ranks without any real formation. There was no point in trying to force organization on them. If something happened, they’d all react unexpectedly, I was sure.
“‘Basajaun’ for now,” I said with a shrug, watching the green and brown grasses to either side for snakes. It was probably a little early for them to be out, but you could never be too sure.
“But, like…they’re all basajaunak,” Jasper said. “What do we call the others?”
“The females are basandere,” Hollace said. “So there’s two names for us to use.”
“‘Basajaun’ for now,” I repeated. “I assume they’ll introduce themselves.”
The trail turned downward. Not long afterward, our surroundings started to change. Ferns and other vegetation dotted the way, and the redwoods crowded in closer, standing like mammoths, silent and serene. The temperature dropped, cool now underneath the great branches jutting out way into the sky.
“Oh, look.”
I turned to see Edgar step out from the path. He bent over a patch of clover blanketing the ground.
“I am excellent at finding four-leaf clovers,” he said. “Give me long enough, and I will find them all.”
“What time scale are we using, here? Is it long enough in relation to your quest for the perfect doily,” Nessa asked, “or your ability to choke a yard with flowers?”
Ulric started to laugh.
“Would you come on, Edgar?” Mr. Tom said. “You’re holding us all up. There will be plenty of time to find a clover when we’re…wherever we are going.”
Edgar straightened and hoisted his pack a little higher on his back. We all had food and supplies and clothes, but he had merely sweats and a cooler of blood. He didn’t trust the animal resources and had decided to bring his own. I didn’t ask where he’d gotten it. It wasn’t something I’d ever want to know.
We walked farther along the trail, deeper into the redwoods. Moths and insects danced in the stray rays of sunshine over the ferns. Birdsong floated through the chilled air.
One of the large trees hulked beside the trail, over fifteen feet in diameter.
“I think this is it,” I said, looking up its reddish-brown trunk to the top—how far up it was, I couldn’t be sure. It crowded the light in comfortable stillness. A hush lay heavy around us all, almost like the trees were keeping the peace within the wild. Like they were as sentient as the basajaunak themselves. “A large redwood kissing the trail—isn’t that what the basajaun said? We’re supposed to communicate to them through it, letting them know we’re here?”