Dreams 1 : A Quest Of Dreams by Debra Dier

Author:Debra Dier
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Romance
ISBN: ISBN| 0-8439-4485-4
Publisher: Leisure Books
Published: 1993-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Sixteen

Kate stretched her arms wide in the warm summer sun. The apple orchard spread out in all directions, and the fruit was huge and ripe, hanging from the thick trees, bending boughs until they were about to break. She was hungry, so very hungry. The apples surrounded her, reaching out for her, their rich fragrance heated by the summer sun, beckoning her.

Hunger beat inside her like the deep chiming of a church bell on Sunday morning. And the apples stirred in the breeze, great, shining orbs of scarlet. The taste of cider streaked across her tongue. Hunger filled her, consumed her.

One apple dipped lower as she drew near, deep scarlet, plump, ripe amid dark green leaves. She lifted her hand, reaching for that shiny fruit. Yet as she touched it, the scarlet began to dissolve, sticky, moist, dripping on her hand, sliding down her outstretched arm. The apple turned on the branch, the round fruit changing in her grasp, molding into the head of a serpent, white fangs dripping blood.

Kate came awake with a start, a sudden jolt of fear that sucked the air from her lungs, that jerked every muscle and sent her heart careening into the wall of her chest. She lay for a moment, gathering her senses, trying to shake free of the fear.

Only a dream. A dream brought on by hunger and fear and the snake that had bitten her. No, it was a vine, Austin had said. And I'm still alive to prove his words.

It was dark. Through the entrance of the hut she could see the fire still burning, red and gold flames lapping upward toward the dark sky. She reached for Devlin, her hand sliding over the cool leaves that had cushioned his body. He was gone.

She needed to see him. She needed to know she wasn't alone. She stumbled out of the shelter, searching for him. The campsite was deserted. Devlin would never abandon her, she thought, fighting the nagging fear that chilled her like a cold December wind sweeping across the moors.

"Devlin, where are you?" she whispered, moving toward the blessed light of the fire, glancing around as though she expected the devil to leap out at her. Firelight flickered against the shutters of the forest, unable to penetrate the dense shadows.

"Devlin!" Again her voice was no more than a whisper. Why was she whispering? There was no one to disturb, no evil being to awaken, she assured herself, glancing around the campsite. And yet she couldn't bring herself to raise her voice. She didn't want anyone or anything to notice her.

Devlin's clothes lay on the sand by the stream, his knife, still cradled in the sheath, on top of the neat pile. She ventured toward the stream, walking on the balls of her feet. Something moved near the waterfalls. She sank to her knees, crouching low, making herself as small as she could, and peered through the darkness.

Devlin stood beneath the waterfalls, his palms pressed flat against the rocks, his head bowed.

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