The Skinwalker's Apprentice by Claribel Ortega

Author:Claribel Ortega [Ortega, Claribel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Sword & Sorcery
Amazon: B00IJOA4M8
Published: 2014-02-23T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Easthampton, NY

1658

Margo ran faster than a jackrabbit. She could feel her heart pounding in her throat as she ran against the rising sun, trying to beat it to the stone house.

“If you are late, or break any of the rules I’ve set,” she remembered The Priestess’s words from her first day, “I will cancel this apprenticeship and notify the entire Coven of the transgression. You will most likely be stripped of your right to practice magic as a free witch. It would be an utter disgrace upon you and your family.”

Rules, expectations, what was proper and what was not. Those were the things that reigned over Margo’s life. There was no room for debate or misunderstanding. It was black and white in her world, with the villagers, her parents, and now The Priestess. Margo felt sick, as if her entire head were being submerged under water. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. And then, in an instant, the world around her fell black.

She stopped. The sun, which was growing furiously over the horizon a moment before, was gone. The crisp wind, which had been biting at her face as she ran, was now a gentle breeze, still cold, but much stiller. She looked around, and the forest all around her was empty. Had she run into some enchanted area of The Priestess’s house without noticing? But then she realized she hadn’t gotten that far. No, she was still on the dirt path towards the stone house. She turned on her heels and started walking home in a daze, breaking into a run after about ten steps. When she reached her front door and pushed it open, she found her entire family asleep. Her father was rubbing his eyes sleepily as he sat up in bed.

This was most unusual. She had seen her father begin to ready himself for work. And now here he was, in his sleeping dress, lying next to a still slumbering Elisabeth at his side.

“Father, why have you gone back to bed?” asked Margo, still frozen in the doorway.

“Back to bed? I have not been out of bed since last night,” he said in a surprised tone.

“But this morning we spoke … ”

“Perhaps it was a dream. Or perhaps you are overtired, child,” said Nathanial as he swung his long legs out of the bed. He looked at the clock on their fireplace.

“Why, it’s only five a.m., Margo, why are you up so early? And dressed already?”

Margo swallowed hard. She was sure that she had left the house at exactly seven forty-five.

Had her father turned the clock hands back as a joke? She couldn’t imagine why he would, and that wouldn’t explain the sky turning black suddenly.

“Since we’re both up,” said Nathanial sleepily, “may I have a word, Margo?”

The same words he’d spoken this morning, or whenever that conversation had taken place. In her dreams, maybe? Margo was stunned silent, and she stumbled towards a chair, plopping herself down and putting one hand on her forehead.

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