Dreamwood by Heather Mackey

Author:Heather Mackey
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-06-11T21:00:00+00:00

Lucy shivered while Obwe’s boat faded into a distant speck. The dawn brought a chill ocean wind that seemed to blow right through her.

She turned to Pete and looked up the slope of fallen trees.

“So I guess we’ve got to climb this thing,” Pete said, sniffing. His nose was pink from the chill.

The deadfall would be a challenge even if Lucy were feeling her best. But she’d barely slept in the Ss’til sea caves the night before, and cold and fear made her stiff and clumsy.

They couldn’t stay on the beach, however. She’d noticed the slick black head of a serpent lurking just offshore, and she did not want to be its breakfast.

From somewhere above them came an ominous groan.

“What was that?” Pete ducked down. “That sure sounds like the devil’s voice.”

Lucy shook her head dismissively. Pete couldn’t let himself get spooked so easily. “It’s the log pile shifting,” she said, pointing up at the deadfall. The whole mass was slowly moving toward the beach, like a glacier of wood grinding down everything in its path. She found a place where she could stand on a broken branch and clamber onto a nearby log. With a grunt she hoisted herself up and stood unsteadily. Its bark skinned away, the tree was slick; it was like standing on ice. She had to pull herself up to get to the next log. The cold made her hands weak and clumsy. I’m not going to fall.

But before she got very far, she slipped on the smooth wood and tumbled onto the freezing sand. She got up, wincing, and braced her hands against the log, searching for a handhold.

“Need some help?” Pete asked, before hoisting himself up onto the log. He squatted down to watch her, balancing on his toes the way the boys in Wickham used to crouch over their dice games.

“No . . . hmpf . . . I’ve got it . . .” Lucy jumped up and flung her arms forward, only to slide slowly to the ground again, her fingernails scraping uselessly against the wood; she felt like a cat trying to climb a curtain.

The best she could do was to hang on to a nubbin of a branch and try to swing her legs up. Each time, she scraped her moccasins against the bark before her feet crashed down. It was humiliating.

Pete looked down at her. He had to be thinking how strong and tall he was, with his sleeves rolled up and his skin tanned from the sun.

She could see in his eyes he was enjoying this.

“Would you like some help now?” he asked innocently.

Much as she’d like to refuse, she couldn’t see a way around it.

“Yes . . . please.”

Pete bent down and extended his hand. She grasped his strong wrist and he pulled her up. She stood beside him, the salt breeze pilfering pale strands of hair from her untidy braid. She brushed them away from her face and took a deep breath.

“Thanks,” she said lightly, shrugging a little so he wouldn’t think she was too grateful.

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