Leather and Sage (Willow Moss and Kindling Book 1) by Taylor Shepeard

Author:Taylor Shepeard [Shepeard, Taylor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951445133
Publisher: Cursed Dragon Ship Publishing, LLC
Published: 2021-11-21T06:00:00+00:00

13

Lies and Boulders

Ellie Hallivard

There’s something inside me. My head pounds, ears caught in a roar that dissipates, then returns with a vengeance to block all sound. And there’s a grip next to the gift, a dense place, like pebbles got hollowed out then settled there, but it’s more, a thing that writhes and shudders.

Nausea rises in my gut without warning. I roll to my stomach and release the bile that’s swept up my throat. It burns, and the thing quakes. Blades of grass twist up in my splayed hands, the ground cool and soft beneath me. It hurts to move, but I grit my teeth and push up to pant on my hands and knees. The landscape blurs, and my forehead furrows as I clench my eyes shut and try to place where I’m at. It’s a haze, but it comes back. And the more I remember, the more I fight not to curl in on myself.

The Elders. The Orchard. The ritual beneath Ol’ Molly.

My gaze snaps open and I gasp. The pain, the Ancestors, the voice—it swarms my memories and sends ’nother rattle through my body. Did it work? Desperate to get my bearings, I push the heels of my palms into my eyes ’til light sprinkles the backs of my lids, then clamber to my feet. They quiver and ache. I must look like a newborn colt, the way I stagger to stay upright as my knees wobble and threaten to give out. But I won’t let them.

Ol’ Molly rises up before me, a dark silhouette to cast shadows over my lone form. Red heat flashes up my spine. Those liars. They hadn’t prepared me for this. To share my body with an Ancestor like it’s a vindictive spirit in and of itself. My gut rolls ’gain, but I clamp down the sensation and shove it back. Overhead, the sky has bled out to plum and the soft shades of pink and orange that signal sunset have gone. A fresh scent of dawn and apple crisp coats my skin while the ritual dress ripples in the weak breeze. It’s colder than it has been the last few nights, a chill that slinks through my flesh, and I wrap my arms ’round myself, a vain attempt at warmth.

Through the shear material of the gown, my skin seems translucent, a sickened pallor, save the bold color of the paints. I look ’cross the Orchard, but it’s empty. They left me here, alone. A tremble starts, then tightens my cheeks while my nose flares. How dare they? I’ve lost Mama and Lillian, did they think to abandon me, too? Blood slips onto my tongue, and I release my teeth from they grip on my lower lip. I need to get ’way from here—return home and gather myself before I seek them out.

The being next to my magic rumbles. It spreads through my core and reaches the tips of my fingers like a vibrato. My eyes fly wide just before the voices start to hiss.

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