Lark Rising by Waugh Sandra

Author:Waugh, Sandra [Waugh, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780449817506
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2014-09-23T00:00:00+00:00

IT WAS A long day returning to Bren Clearing. The hills of Tarnec marched a downward course in an endless display of rock edges, soaring pine, and eucalyptus. The horses’ hooves mashed the bed of pine needles in a dulled progression of steps. I wondered how Gharain knew his horse was going true. It appeared the same—the straight, tall trunks, the sharply mingled smells, and the brown carpet.

The monotony did not matter. We were making progress; we’d catch up with the Riders and be on our way to Merith. And … I was with Gharain. Guiltily, that was all I thought of. I watched him with both need and resistance so acute that Rune felt the tension in my body and every so often would shake his head as if to stir me awake and have me focus on descent.

That I was not alone in this tension did not help—it hummed between us, and I sensed Gharain’s gaze forced away more than once. I wrestled with my conscience, shamed myself for my desire. He’s meant for Evie; he’s meant for Evie, I repeated over and over in my head. If only I’d not dreamed.

If only I’d not promised.

I was aware as well that Gharain’s sword stayed snug in its hilt. “Do you not worry for Troths?” I asked him.

“Not here,” he replied, pulling up a little on his reins as his horse stepped over a hillock. “The smells are too potent here for them, and daytime too harsh.”

“But you said the hills of Tarnec have been breached.”

“They have. With the amulets in their grasp, the Breeders are bold. The Troths are sent—to divert our attention, maybe keep our focus from seeking or,” with a nod at me, “protecting the Guardians. Still, this forest is an almost lethal venture for those creatures. They would not stay here long. Most are likely too far away to sense us now.”

Troths, worming their way into other territories, compelled to kill at the beckon of Chaos … I thought then of the swifts. “Are there many creatures conjured or dominated by the Breeders?” I asked. “More than what I’ve seen?”

Gharain’s expression darkened. He dismounted then, having paused on an outcropping of rock at cliff’s edge where some grass grew. As the horses set to graze, I wandered a bit, letting my face drink in the sunshine, and watched the two steeds moving together in a slow motion, the dappled gray and the white.

“What is the name of your horse?” I asked to change the subject.

“Petral.” It was muttered inconsequentially. Gharain was busy with something by the edge, so I walked to where he stood.

“What is that?” I asked.

He looked up from his belt, where he was unfastening something. It was the leather braid that he’d used to bind my hands, though neither of us acknowledged it. “Do you see?” He stretched an arm out, pointing down toward something between the craggy rocks.

I squinted. “The small hare there?”

“Yes.” Now Gharain was digging a stone from the hard ground.

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