Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Right now, I felt exactly like an unfit pudding and stumbled about very inelegantly as I shook out my tent, secured the poles, tightened the guy ropes, shoved my sleeping bag into the one-person orange and teal sleeping pod, and kicked off my hiking boots before crawling inside.
Darkness fell in a heavy cloak of nothingness, almost as if it had been waiting for me to have a roof before clicking out the lights. No stars tonight. No moon. Just me and my solar torch, which turned into a lantern by untwisting the middle and hanging it from the hook I’d sewn into the ceiling.
I didn’t bother changing.
I didn’t bother setting up other creature comforts such as chargers, water bottles, or a tripod for my video diary.
I was spent.
I used what little energy I had left to eat two granola bars, clean my teeth, then burrowed into my sleeping bag and crashed.
* * * * *
I woke panting.
I jack-knifed up.
I hit my head on my lantern swinging from the tent’s ceiling.
I froze and clamped both hands over my mouth to stop my heavy breathing.
What the hell was that?
I blinked.
Something...something dangerous.
My ears twitched for the bloodcurdling howl that’d woken me.
It’d reached into my dreams and yanked me out with bloody claws.
A bear?
A bobcat?
Coyote?
Slowly, I dropped my hands from my mouth and clenched my sleeping bag. Instinct made me reach for my windbreaker that I’d tossed in the corner, grabbing the knife that’d helped me more than once. A simple switchblade with a mother-of-pearl handle, it’d cut away vines that I’d stumbled into, carved firewood, and skinned fish for dinner.
It was as familiar in my fingers as stone was, but I’d never used it in self-defense. I’d taken a quick course when I’d started off-roading into deeper, more desolate places, but I’d never left myself so open to violence before.
Shit.
The noise came again.
I ducked involuntarily as if the howl could reach through the material of my tent and pluck me from my sleeping bag. It echoed in the ravine I’d camped above, ripped up the hillsides, banged morbid drums on the rock faces, and tangled with the trees that both absorbed the snarl and amplified it.
Not a bear. Not a bobcat or coyote.
Then...what is it?
I’d never heard such wretchedness. Never had a noise stop my heart and scratch itself over every inch of my skin, leaving me shaking and out of breath.
Leaving me desperate to know what it was.
It came again. A lament as well as a roar. A thundering shockwave of pure suffering.
An instinctual part welled deep inside me. My hand curled around my knife, not in self-defense this time, but in preparation to do what was necessary and put such a broken creature out of its misery.
The sound came again. Haunted and low, dismembered by the slight breeze and carried away before I could determine if it was animal, human, or otherworldly.
Crawling from my temporary bedroom, I climbed to my feet, swaying in the bracken, my socks catching on leaf debris, my hand raised with my knife.
Still no moon, no stars. Without my lantern, I couldn’t see two steps in front of me.
If I went exploring, I might fall down the cliff not far from where I’d set up camp. I could break a leg and never get out of this place.
I could die here.
The howl came a final time, echoing with grief and the undeniable moan for help. It sounded like fury melted with sadness, throbbing with terror and torment.
It made me ache.
Made me desperate to help.
And then, it was gone.
And no matter how long I stood outside, a single girl exposed to the elements with every instinct straining to find such a creature, only silence and leaves existed.
CHAPTER FOUR
I’D BEEN DIGGING AGAIN.
Holding up my hands, I scowled at the dirt beneath my nails, the mud up my arms, and the soil spread through my single bed.
Fuck.
That hadn’t happened in a while. It’d been years since I’d had the faculties to unlock the multiple barriers on the dormitory door and sneak my way outside in my sleep. To move with the moonlight. To slip between shadows, naked and silent, before falling to my knees in the earth.
Looking past my dirt-caked hands, I narrowed my eyes at the window.
It was ajar.
Vaulting from my bed, I bolted to it. Grabbing the wrought iron frame, I fisted the old-fashioned latch.
Why is this open?
Who?
How?
My eyes shot around the room, flying over empty beds, searching barren walls, and probing into dark corners.
I stilled and stopped breathing, waiting to hear an intruder cough or command. My skin bristled, and if I’d been graced with fur instead of pitiful flesh, I would’ve shuddered with a warning hackle.
Just like it’d been years since I’d been digging in the night, it’d also been a while since I was young enough to fantasize. To pretend I was another beast—any other beast—than what I was. I’d read every single book in this godforsaken place three times over. I’d devoured economics, cooking, horticulture, and mechanics. I’d indulged in thrillers, sagas, and even romance, but my favorite literature was fantasy.