WINDWALKER (THE PROPHECY SERIES) by Dinah McCall

Author:Dinah McCall
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Sharon Sala Books
Published: 2012-09-14T04:00:00+00:00

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The drums were so loud now that when Layla’s bike began sputtering, she almost didn’t hear it die in time to keep it from falling over. She dropped the kickstand and quickly dismounted before helping her grandfather off.

She was trying not to panic, but she didn’t understand. Everything the Windwalker left with her had been in endless supply. She squatted down to check to see if a wire had come loose, but saw nothing that would explain it. What she did see though made her belly roll.

The ground was cracking from the heat. She could see cracks a good two inches wide beneath the bike, spreading out across the canyon floor like a giant spider’s web. Within moments, she heard more engines sputtering, and looked back. Whatever was going on had nothing to do with fuel.

Firewalker stole the power. Make haste Singing Bird. There is danger ahead and behind.

She saw nothing that would explain the warning, but knew not to ignore it. Every muscle in her body was protesting as she pulled herself upright.

“We walk from here,” she said, touching her grandfather’s arm. “Can you do this?”

“Is it far?”

Layla recognized the landmarks. They were less than two miles from the Anasazi ruins.

“Less than two miles I think, but we must hurry. I think now we have to run.”

She saw the shock on his face, and then the determination.

“I will run until I cannot, and then you will leave me.”

Layla frowned. “No. I’ll carry you if I have to. I-“

George grabbed her by both arms. “Stop. This is Layla talking, and you are no longer Layla. You are Singing Bird. You have a nation to save. It is your destiny. I am one old man who longs to see his wife’s face once more.”

Layla wouldn’t answer. She couldn’t let herself think about making that choice. She turned toward the marchers. They were silent and swaying on their feet. Their skin was raw from wind and sun burn, their lips cracked and bleeding. There was so much white dust on their hair and faces that they all looked like ghosts – an analogy too eerie to ignore. She couldn’t let them die. She’d promised she would save them, and she still had their trust.

“Listen to me! We are very near. I think less than two miles, but there is danger and time is running out. We have to run the rest of the way. Drop whatever you are carrying. Nothing matters but your lives. Pass the word.”

The murmur of their voices as word spread along the march was like a breeze tickling her face, but the noise grew as it rolled back, until the sound was a distant roar.

People began dropping their bags as she took the water bottle out of her backpack. There was less than an inch of water left. She took one small sip then handed it to George. While he drank, she shouldered the quiver of arrows and her bow, and felt for the hasp of her father’s hunting knife strapped around her knee.

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