Soulstring by Midori Snyder

Author:Midori Snyder [Snyder, Midori]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0441775918
Google: q9wZAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0441775918
Barnesnoble: 0441775918
Goodreads: 504120
Publisher: Ace
Published: 1987-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

I awoke groggy, my cloak muffled about my head, dimly aware that the rain of the day before had returned to join the dense fog. I peered out from the protective folds of my cloak, not wishing to expose my face to the clammy air. Something was different, I thought dully. The fire seemed to have moved away. I was sure we had been sleeping by the middle tree and yet, from where I lay, I could see its nobby trunk. I tried with the vagueness of sleep to make sense of it, and with painful slowness it dawned on me that I had moved, or had been moved in the night. I put a searching hand behind me and felt for Severin. He wasn’t there. I turned over quickly, and, raising up on my arms, peered frantically through the mist. I still couldn’t see Severin, nor was there any sound that might have told me he was nearby.

I was alone and the realization was like cold water dashed across my face. No! He’d not abandon me, I told myself. Something’s happened. I scrambled to my feet and turned around, searching for signs of Severin. I ignored my cloak as it slipped from my shoulders and dropped onto the muddied ground. The cold fog swarmed over me and swept the warmth from my skin, but I hardly noticed it, for terror had numbed all sensations except for the urgency of finding Severin.

I heard a noise, a small snorting sound, and I called out in the mist. “Severin?” I whispered, holding my body rigid, my ears straining to catch the sound more clearly. “Severin, is that you?”

There was no reply. Slowly my feet moved in the direction of the sound. Circling the ashes of our fire, I crept through the fog until I was near the middle tree. Heaped in a careless pile, I saw Severin’s clothes. His boots, trousers, shirt, and cloak lay discarded, as if the owner had stripped suddenly, giving no thought for how they remained jumbled on the wet ground. I stopped, perplexed and afraid to move, but again I heard the shuffling noise and moved, as if compelled, toward it.

I nearly collided with him in the fog. I would have done so had the mist not swirled and parted like the opening of a curtain. He was there and I stopped, drawing myself up short before he could take fright and bound away into the forest. I saw his head first, the huge rack of antlers with twelve sharp tines above the crown gleaming a velvety brown in the wet air. His ears flicked nervously and he stared at me down the length of a slender nose.

He was a large, magnificent stag. My head barely reached the top of his rust-colored shoulder. His broad, powerful neck loomed above me, holding aloft his long head in a graceful arch.

“Severin?” I whispered in amazement to the stag. I approached, moving slowly, my arms resting at my sides.

The stag gazed at me warily.

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