A Cursed Hunt (The Wings & Witches Series Book 1) by Rebecca Grey

Author:Rebecca Grey [Grey, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

18

Remis

For the second time, Remis sucked in a terrible aching breath that rattled deep down into his lungs and spit out a mouthful of water. His face was pressed down into the mud, the scent of his own putrid vomit wafting up toward his nose.

A hand rose to touch his throat. The flesh there was cold and covered in goosebumps but entirely intact. He looked down at his fingertips, bare of any blood. Still, he could feel the terrible stinging pain of her blade cutting across his neck and the scrape of her nail as it drew a line down the side of his face. Her touch had sent an unexpected thrill through him. He’d been scared, yes, but he’d also felt the brush of her skin on his all the way to down into the marrow of his bones.

His lungs burned with every breath he took. His vision cleared with each blink but he stared at the spot where she’d stood. There were no footprints, though he could clearly see the shape of his own body where he’d lay. Squinting, he looked up toward the sky. The day was halfway through. How long had he been out? Hours? A day?

He thought of that terrible plunging feeling he’d gotten as he and his friends toppled over the edge of the waterfall. From wherever he’d landed, he couldn’t hear the sound of its cascades any longer. The river must have taken him farther before he somehow washed up on the edge. The fact that he’d survived the fall and still hadn’t somehow drowned in the current was in itself a miracle. He only hoped the miracle included his friends.

Forcing himself to his feet, he grunted at the strain of his sore muscles but found he was otherwise fine. No broken bones and he still had his cloak though everything he wore was still sodden.

“Merritt? Percy?” His voice carried but no one said anything in return. Remis took two cautious steps toward the riverbank, casting a glance one way and then the next hoping for some clue as to where his friends might be. Had they been carried as far as he had? Farther? Or were their bodies somewhere near the waterfall he couldn’t even see any longer?

Desperation flooded him, stinging his eyes. He blinked back the tears that wanted to come, feeling the shame of crying as heavily upon him as though his father was here screaming at him to be a man. He was lost, somewhere between home and Croughton. His friends were quite possibly dead. And all of that went without mentioning that the witch was nearing him every damn hour.

Run, my little rabbit, run.

Her voice was sinfully sensuous and the sound of her threat repeated in his head. No matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her under that hood. Nothing more than the occasional light over her mouth.

He wanted to run. Every instinct he had was screaming for him to get as far away from this place as possible.

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