by the rest of the tree.
After being nearly beaten to death with the slapping limbs of a dying sassafras, we finally made it into the outer edge of the Deadland.
The Deadland hadn’t realized that it had snowed. The ground was dry, and the skeletal arms of the trees reached toward the sky, begging for rain or snow. It was a dead place, silent but for the wind that blew an eerie cry as it whistled through fallen logs and over dead leaves.
“Everybody stay close! Scent doesn’t work here, so keep your eyes open. Watch for anything that looks out of the ordinary,” Adam instructed in a low tone.
“But it all looks ‘out of the ordinary!’“ Michael hissed back at him, “It’s like The Nightmare before Christmas up here!”
Tommy mumbled in agreement.
We came to a dried creek bed, the stones clattered and echoed as we walked across, making the only sound since the wind had died down. There weren’t any signs of life anywhere we looked. No birds, squirrels, or even bugs, much less any creature that resembled a Spriteblood.
I was beginning to think it was a wasted trip and was fervently praying that a deer wouldn’t magically appear to remind Adam about a hunt, when I noticed a huge tree with scaly white bark. The roots had pulled up from the dirt, stretching toward where the creek now lay, as if it had been reaching for water or maybe just for help. I crawled up the side of the bank to take a better look.
“You guys may want to come take a look at this…”
An empty, gaping hole at the base of its trunk looked like something had exploded from within. Inside the dead tree, deep marks furrowed the wood. Something had tried to claw its way to freedom for a very long time — and had recently made it.
I wasn’t going to have to worry about hunting a deer for a while.
A flesh-eating fairy was on the loose.
Chapter Eight
Ella
The Village
September 15, 1774
Many moons passed, each one bringing White Wolf and Bright Eyes closer than the one before. They became inseparable, spending every moment they could by each other’s side. During the day, she rarely thought of how life had been before Bright Eyes. Life was complete with him near her. She was happy.
But at night, the nightmares of her past came to haunt her. Her dreams held the scorching heat of burning wagons, the stench of death, and the fathomless, black eyes of the Fire Witch. She would wake, remembering the eight-year-old girl she had been, the family she once had, and the evil that had taken everything away from her.
On one such night, she woke and made her way quietly around the mounds of furs and sleeping bodies in the hut. She went outside, and walked to the far side of the village, where she sat on an old stump which had become her favorite spot to collect herself. From this perch, she could look up to the hill where The Wolf had left her so many years before. She shuddered as a breeze brushed across her bare arms.
“The night is cold. Too cold for dreams to chase White Wolf,” Bright Eyes laid a blanket across her shoulders, sitting close to her on the stump.
“The dreams held fire, the air cools them,” she said quietly, smiling at the welcoming warmth as she snuggled into the blanket, “How do you always know when I’m here?”
His eyes sparkled gold in the moonlight as he reached to take her hand, “White Wolf and Bright Eyes share same soul. Bright Eyes always know when bad spirits come to chase White Wolf.”
She believed his words. Countless nights she had come to this same spot, and each time he had come and stayed with her until the first rays of daybreak streamed across the mountains, the darkness dissipated, and the memories from the little girl she had once been, faded with the night.
This night, however, was not like any other.
The harvest moon was full and high, casting an eerie, magical light on the couple huddled on the old stump. A wolf howled in the distance, and the moon seemed to shine even
After being nearly beaten to death with the slapping limbs of a dying sassafras, we finally made it into the outer edge of the Deadland.
The Deadland hadn’t realized that it had snowed. The ground was dry, and the skeletal arms of the trees reached toward the sky, begging for rain or snow. It was a dead place, silent but for the wind that blew an eerie cry as it whistled through fallen logs and over dead leaves.
“Everybody stay close! Scent doesn’t work here, so keep your eyes open. Watch for anything that looks out of the ordinary,” Adam instructed in a low tone.
“But it all looks ‘out of the ordinary!’“ Michael hissed back at him, “It’s like The Nightmare before Christmas up here!”
Tommy mumbled in agreement.
We came to a dried creek bed, the stones clattered and echoed as we walked across, making the only sound since the wind had died down. There weren’t any signs of life anywhere we looked. No birds, squirrels, or even bugs, much less any creature that resembled a Spriteblood.
I was beginning to think it was a wasted trip and was fervently praying that a deer wouldn’t magically appear to remind Adam about a hunt, when I noticed a huge tree with scaly white bark. The roots had pulled up from the dirt, stretching toward where the creek now lay, as if it had been reaching for water or maybe just for help. I crawled up the side of the bank to take a better look.
“You guys may want to come take a look at this…”
An empty, gaping hole at the base of its trunk looked like something had exploded from within. Inside the dead tree, deep marks furrowed the wood. Something had tried to claw its way to freedom for a very long time — and had recently made it.
I wasn’t going to have to worry about hunting a deer for a while.
A flesh-eating fairy was on the loose.
Chapter Eight
Ella
The Village
September 15, 1774
Many moons passed, each one bringing White Wolf and Bright Eyes closer than the one before. They became inseparable, spending every moment they could by each other’s side. During the day, she rarely thought of how life had been before Bright Eyes. Life was complete with him near her. She was happy.
But at night, the nightmares of her past came to haunt her. Her dreams held the scorching heat of burning wagons, the stench of death, and the fathomless, black eyes of the Fire Witch. She would wake, remembering the eight-year-old girl she had been, the family she once had, and the evil that had taken everything away from her.
On one such night, she woke and made her way quietly around the mounds of furs and sleeping bodies in the hut. She went outside, and walked to the far side of the village, where she sat on an old stump which had become her favorite spot to collect herself. From this perch, she could look up to the hill where The Wolf had left her so many years before. She shuddered as a breeze brushed across her bare arms.
“The night is cold. Too cold for dreams to chase White Wolf,” Bright Eyes laid a blanket across her shoulders, sitting close to her on the stump.
“The dreams held fire, the air cools them,” she said quietly, smiling at the welcoming warmth as she snuggled into the blanket, “How do you always know when I’m here?”
His eyes sparkled gold in the moonlight as he reached to take her hand, “White Wolf and Bright Eyes share same soul. Bright Eyes always know when bad spirits come to chase White Wolf.”
She believed his words. Countless nights she had come to this same spot, and each time he had come and stayed with her until the first rays of daybreak streamed across the mountains, the darkness dissipated, and the memories from the little girl she had once been, faded with the night.
This night, however, was not like any other.
The harvest moon was full and high, casting an eerie, magical light on the couple huddled on the old stump. A wolf howled in the distance, and the moon seemed to shine even
Similar Books
