The Scarecrow Queen by Melinda Salisbury

Author:Melinda Salisbury
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2017-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

Every single second I’m waiting for my body to betray me, for the command to come that will stop me in my tracks. Even as we fly through the fog, pain burning in my sides as I gasp for breath, I imagine the slow stop, the turn, the hounds leaping toward me, jaws open, stinking breath in my face.

A little ahead of me, Merek is running for all he’s worth, cutting through the meadow like a blade, arms swinging back and forth with precision as he moves. I wish it was dark, wish we still had the cover of night. I feel too exposed out here in the open. Every now and then, Merek glances back, eyes on me, then over my shoulder, before he turns back in the direction we’re heading.

Though he said we need to get to water, he didn’t say if there was any near, and I keep the refrain please-please-please in my mind. We leave the meadow and find ourselves in a small copse, where we have to take care, as roots hide in the shadows to trip us up.

At one point I gasp that maybe we should climb the trees, but Merek snaps “No” at me without even turning around. So we keep running, out of the woodland, into more farmland, the muscles in my legs screaming from weeks of disuse, my lungs and chest burning, sharp pain in my side. The dogs still bark behind us, getting ever louder as they get ever closer.

“There!” Merek screams, and it seems that whatever he’s spotted is enough, because he pelts toward it, widening the gap between us. I do the same, a cry wrenching itself from my lips as I force my poor body to pick up speed.

Then my ankle gives, and I stumble. I feel the layers of skin rubbing away on my palms as my hands fly out to protect me. My knees take the brunt of the fall as I slide forward on the momentum of my running, scraped raw beneath the breeches, and I close my mouth and eyes against the mud and stone that fly into my face.

The dogs are even louder.

I look behind me and for the first time I can see the dogs, cutting through the dark, shadows low to the ground as they race toward me.

Then Merek is there, hauling me up, an arm around my waist, and I try to move but my ankle hurts, my knees hurt, my hands sting.

“Just go,” I tell him.

Instead, he swings me up and into his arms, grunting under my weight.

Over his shoulder I can make out the patterns in the dogs’ fur now, striped and brindled, their teeth gleaming as they yip and call to each other, running us down. I turn to the front and I see something shining, silver—water—glittering ahead of us. We’re going to make it.

Something slams into us from behind, and I fly out of Merek’s arms, landing a few feet from the water’s edge.

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