Mearsies Heili Bounces Back by Sherwood Smith

Author:Sherwood Smith [Smith, Sherwood]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy
ISBN: 9781611380668
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 2011-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

PART TWO

“Poor MH”

ONE

Much later, I—Princess Cherene Jennet Sherwood of Mearsies Heili—said that our toughest adventure so far began not with prophetic words, heroic poses, or even a warning rumble of thunder.

Nope. I had a gut ache from being a hog with the chocolate pie.

Typical.

I flopped over on my bed in the underground cave we girls called the Junky. No sleep. I flopped back. No sleep. I wished I could wake one of the others up, just to get her to put on my Shoe and launch me into next week, where I’d be past the stomach ache.

I rolled around in bed, repeating over and over, “Do NOT eat more than two pieces. Even if all your stories are spoiled by the others being as annoying as you are when you’re in a Mood. Even if the pie is still warm inside and cool on top, with a skin of chocolate ... You will never run out of chocolate pie! You are not going back to Earth for real!”

I groaned in disgust, and got up to take a walk.

The Junky was quiet, deep breathing the only sound coming up the short tunnels leading to the other girls’ rooms. I rounded the short curve from my room and emerged into the den, where the faint slivery-white light of a glow globe appeared day-bright to my eyes. I sighed, and wormed my toes into the woven rug on the magic-smoothed dirt floor to the main tunnel entrance, which was framed by the intertwined roots of an ancient, lightning-blasted hollow tree. Being there, alone, in the middle of the night, made me see anew what had become so familiar, and a little spurt of happiness splashed through me, like melted gold, or the light caught in water—I’m really here. This is my home, I thought gratefully. Even when I do dumb stuff like eat too much Just Because.

But thankfulness didn’t take away the gut ache. So I stepped directly under the inside of the hollow tree and held out my hand to feel for rain dropping down.

None.

Good.

I made my way up the tunnel to the cave entrance, then slipped out into a quiet, moonlit night. The forest leaves were silver-tipped, the shadows faint. I walked out onto the grassy slope and over the soft hummus, breathing deeply of the beloved scents of the woodland. My stomach seemed to settle a little as I listened happily to the cheerful chitter of crickets, and the rustle and plappity-plap of some forest animal racing about in its night life.

I peered around, sniffing the scents of wildflowers, so busy enjoying myself I didn’t notice when the crickets went silent. A light flickered, surprising me. Dummy! Too late I realized the animal might have been running from something—there was a crashing noise in the shrubs behind me. A muffled voice, and more crashing to the right.

Running footsteps from the left.

Because whoever it was with the light had, of course, seen my figure in its pale nightgown drifting along.

It had to be Chwahir—who had that magic-enhanced night vision.

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