Thrown to the Wolves (The Faith in Peril Trilogy) by Holly Newcastle

reaching out to grasp me. I sat quickly, hating the renewed sense of uneasiness I felt. Anna remained nearby, but I could barely see her. “Where is that dog?”
    “I don't know.” She sounded miserable.
    “How much longer will we have to walk?”
    “I thought we’d come out already. I prayed for a road. I wish nothing more than a farmhouse, even if they are strangers, anything but this. They would take us in.”
    “There are no houses. There’s … nothing.” An owl hooted, making me jump. “Goodness! He’s over our heads.” I glanced upwards, seeing little but dark branches.
    “They love to eat mice,” said Jacob. “Do you think Molly found a rabbit?”
    “I’ll strangle that dog,” I muttered.
    “Molly!” hollered Jacob. “You naughty girl! Come back at once!”
    I had found a broad trunk to lean against, the bark rough at my back. “What will we do now? Shall we keep walking?”
    “Yes. I want to find a road. I want a way out.”
    “You girls are foolish. We should’ve stayed where we were and made a fire. There’s no telling how far we’ve gone now. Lord only knows where we are.”
    My fingers closed around a small rock, and, before I could stop myself, I threw it at Jacob, although it missed its mark. I felt furious at that moment, utterly enraged, and I wanted to blame someone—anyone.
    “What was that?” he asked. “Who threw that?”
    “Just shut up!” I hissed.
    “Rebekah, stop that.” Anna scooted towards me. “It’s not his fault.”
    “Yes it is! He ran into the woods. We should’ve left him. I hate this! I don’t want to be here.” Her arms went around me. Tears threatened in earnest now, because we would be in the woods all night. “Don’t touch me.”
    “Try not to lose yourself to anger. Don’t blame Jacob either. We’re all in this together. We all share the blame.”
    “I don't want to hear your words of wisdom. They won’t make me feel any better. They won’t quench my thirst or provide a shelter. We’re good and lost, and we’re going to be here all night.”
    “There are worse things, Rebekah. We’re healthy and fed. We’ve no cause for complaints. So we might sleep on the ground, but at least we have each other.”
    “I want my comfortable bed. I want hot chocolate.” I knew I sounded petulant, but I did not care. “I want Mam.”
    “I do too.”
    “Hot chocolate sounds divine,” said Jacob.
    “What will we do now?” I asked.
    “We can rest and then continue.”
    “That’s a bad idea,” said Jacob. “We should make camp.”
    I leaned into Anna, murmuring, “I’m tired of walking.”
    “Maybe we should stay here.”
    “Where will we sleep? We’ve no blankets or anything to protect us from the ground.”
    “One night of discomfort isn’t the end of the world.”
    Tears fell from my eyes, a deluge of wetness I could not control. “I can’t believe this!”
    “Our ancestors suffered worse. They were persecuted for their beliefs and burned at the stake. Eighteen people died in Salzburg in 1528. You’ve seen the illustration in Martyrs Mirror . You know what I’m talking about. This is hardly as bad as that. We must accept that we’re lost and make the best of it.”
    She was right, but it did not ease the growing sense of hysteria that plagued me. “I’ll try, Anna, I’ll try.” Something moved in the bushes near us, the branches rustling. “What was that?” A renewed sense of fear had me reaching for my sister, who held onto my arms with a firm grip. “Did you hear that?”
    We waited in the silence; even the crickets had quieted. “I don’t know.”
    Something rushed towards us then, bursting free of the foliage, but in the dimness, I could not tell what it was. I screamed, not being able to help myself. I wasn’t the only one. Jacob and Anna shouted too, as something—some creature had arrived.

Chapter Five
     
     
    “Molly!” cried Anna. “You naughty dog! Where have you been?”
    My heart hammered in my chest,