Winter Door: The Gateway Trilogy Book Two by Carmody Isobelle

Author:Carmody, Isobelle [Carmody, Isobelle]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2007-09-10T16:00:00+00:00

Rage woke and sat up, heart pounding at the knowledge that she had almost gone to sleep in the snow. Struggling to her feet, Rage found that she was still stiff but no longer numb. The momentary lapse seemed to have done her good. She went a few steps forward and was startled to find that she was not at the bottom of the slope but on a jutting-out section that offered a little plateau. She frowned, feeling certain that she and Billy had reached the dam level before she fell. Or had she dreamed that?

She began to descend the dark slope carefully, straining her eyes to see the bottom. It was so easy to get confused in the snow and wind. If it hadn’t been for Billy’s help, goodness knows where she would have wound up!

And where was Billy, anyway? Worrying about him kept Rage toiling downhill when it seemed that the slope must be endless. Her legs were aching abominably by the time she finally reached flat ground. It was clearer here, not that being able to see helped much, because nothing was the least bit familiar. She seemed to be in a narrow canyon between hills rather than in a valley. Since the canyon went out of sight in both directions, there was not even any way to suggest which direction she ought to walk to find the hikers’ hut. She opened her mouth, took a deep breath, and shouted Billy’s name.

Her blood froze when her only answer was the long, ululating howling of a wolf. Rage might have panicked, but she noticed a single, fitful light, like a flashlight with a bad battery, a little way down the canyon. Hoping it was her uncle, she broke into a slow, stumbling run.

“Hello! I’m here!” she shouted.

The light stopped, then it began to bob toward her. Only when the light was close did she realize that it was not a flashlight but a torch like those they had lit in the hut in Deepwood. She stopped, confused, then she saw who was carrying it and her mouth dropped open.

It was Mr. Walker.

“However did you get here?” Rage gasped incredulously. She wanted to throw her arms about him, but instead of smiling, he was glaring at her suspiciously.

“What are you? Some sort of phantom sent out to deceive us?”

Rage wanted to laugh at the melodrama of his words. However, the look on his sharp little face was serious, and his free hand was resting so purposefully on a small silver sword that she sensed he knew how to use it. “Mr. Walker, it’s me! Rage! Did you come here to find me?”

His face cleared. “Rage! It really is you. But how did you get here before us?”

“I…I was here all along. How did you get here?”

“We came through the winter door, of course.”

Rage was too confounded to speak.

The little dog-man twitched his huge soft ears and demanded, “Have you hit your head?”

It was like a repeat of their arrival in Valley through the bramble gate.

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