Volcrian's Hunt (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) by T. L. Shreffler Page B
Authors: T. L. Shreffler
Tags: Fantasy, Young Adult
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deep breath, pressing her good hand to her chest. To her Cat's Eye. The stone was smooth, perfectly round, glinting with a secretive green light. Strength flooded through her, warming her muscles.
You don't know that for sure, her inner voice murmured. Calm down. Focus. She needed to contain herself, to fight off the urge to scream. No, now was the time for survival. She forcefully quelled her emotions, shoving them into an old box somewhere deep in her mind. She would look at them later. She needed to find shelter and safety, some place where she could piece together what had happened.
Sora dragged herself to her feet. Her muscles quivered, then grew solid and firm. Her entire body felt as though it had been chewed up in a giant's mouth, then spit out on the ground. She glanced down at her torn clothing, bruised skin visible through the holes. Seaweed clung to her pants and shirt, tangled up in the cloth. She tried to rip the strands off, but the effort was too much.
She stumbled over to a pile of driftwood and pulled a large, long branch from the mess. It was fairly straight, made smooth by the ocean. She felt a sudden pang of loss, reminded of her witchwood staff, her favorite weapon. She would never see it again.
Then she turned toward the forest, staggering up the beach. She could see a mountain covered in bright green foliage jutting over the tops of the trees. It was small compared to the mountains of the mainland. The sun touched the horizon behind it, sinking fast in the sky.
She turned her gaze back to the beach. Her eyes combed the trees, looking for a likely place to set up camp. She didn't know what kind of animals lived in this forest. It would be wiser to sleep in the trees.
She spotted a perfect climbing tree further up the beach. A large, thick trunk sprawled outward, split into many branches. The bark looked flat and shiny, different from the tall pines of her homeland. The leaves were longer than her hand, waxy in texture, bright green.
She walked to the tree, quite a distance across the sand. Strange, spiky gourds hung from its branches, dark brown in color, bigger than her fist. At least I'll have something to throw if I'm attacked , she thought wryly. Then she set about climbing the tree. She was barely able to pull herself up to the lower branches, her left arm still weak and useless.
She settled into the nook at its center, curling up against the shadows. The smells of the forest were strange—minty and sweet, tangy, like the lemon tree in her mother's garden. Harsh sounds pierced her ears—loud, shrieking birds and croaking frogs. The click of insects. Distant roars of unseen animals.
She curled tighter into a ball, squeezing her eyes shut, wishing she were invisible. The faces of her friends swam before her. Burn's easy smile. Laina's awkward grin. Crash's enigmatic gaze. They're dead, she thought, tears slipping from between her closed eyelids. Grief struck her, an abyss opening in her chest, large enough to swallow her whole. She fell into it, pain coursing through her, overtaking her body. She felt minuscule, as though still trapped in another ocean, tossed by the waves, helpless.
She began to sob, a choking sound. The pain was so great; it forced her throat to close, made her tears weak and pitiful. She couldn't even begin to fathom what she had lost. They're all dead…and I'm alone.
* * *
Lori frowned. She thought she recognized the horse in the distance. It didn't seem possible, but she would know that dark coat anywhere, the white socks and blazed nose. She even recognized the saddle.
The sun was setting at the small port of Cape Shorn. It was a narrow hook of land that jutted out into the ocean, the last port town for the next sixty miles.
Ferran had brought her here in search of a book. A rare, priceless book that he had given to a whore some months ago. She winced thinking about it. The book had then been sold to some kind of a pirate that was supposedly anchored off of
You don't know that for sure, her inner voice murmured. Calm down. Focus. She needed to contain herself, to fight off the urge to scream. No, now was the time for survival. She forcefully quelled her emotions, shoving them into an old box somewhere deep in her mind. She would look at them later. She needed to find shelter and safety, some place where she could piece together what had happened.
Sora dragged herself to her feet. Her muscles quivered, then grew solid and firm. Her entire body felt as though it had been chewed up in a giant's mouth, then spit out on the ground. She glanced down at her torn clothing, bruised skin visible through the holes. Seaweed clung to her pants and shirt, tangled up in the cloth. She tried to rip the strands off, but the effort was too much.
She stumbled over to a pile of driftwood and pulled a large, long branch from the mess. It was fairly straight, made smooth by the ocean. She felt a sudden pang of loss, reminded of her witchwood staff, her favorite weapon. She would never see it again.
Then she turned toward the forest, staggering up the beach. She could see a mountain covered in bright green foliage jutting over the tops of the trees. It was small compared to the mountains of the mainland. The sun touched the horizon behind it, sinking fast in the sky.
She turned her gaze back to the beach. Her eyes combed the trees, looking for a likely place to set up camp. She didn't know what kind of animals lived in this forest. It would be wiser to sleep in the trees.
She spotted a perfect climbing tree further up the beach. A large, thick trunk sprawled outward, split into many branches. The bark looked flat and shiny, different from the tall pines of her homeland. The leaves were longer than her hand, waxy in texture, bright green.
She walked to the tree, quite a distance across the sand. Strange, spiky gourds hung from its branches, dark brown in color, bigger than her fist. At least I'll have something to throw if I'm attacked , she thought wryly. Then she set about climbing the tree. She was barely able to pull herself up to the lower branches, her left arm still weak and useless.
She settled into the nook at its center, curling up against the shadows. The smells of the forest were strange—minty and sweet, tangy, like the lemon tree in her mother's garden. Harsh sounds pierced her ears—loud, shrieking birds and croaking frogs. The click of insects. Distant roars of unseen animals.
She curled tighter into a ball, squeezing her eyes shut, wishing she were invisible. The faces of her friends swam before her. Burn's easy smile. Laina's awkward grin. Crash's enigmatic gaze. They're dead, she thought, tears slipping from between her closed eyelids. Grief struck her, an abyss opening in her chest, large enough to swallow her whole. She fell into it, pain coursing through her, overtaking her body. She felt minuscule, as though still trapped in another ocean, tossed by the waves, helpless.
She began to sob, a choking sound. The pain was so great; it forced her throat to close, made her tears weak and pitiful. She couldn't even begin to fathom what she had lost. They're all dead…and I'm alone.
* * *
Lori frowned. She thought she recognized the horse in the distance. It didn't seem possible, but she would know that dark coat anywhere, the white socks and blazed nose. She even recognized the saddle.
The sun was setting at the small port of Cape Shorn. It was a narrow hook of land that jutted out into the ocean, the last port town for the next sixty miles.
Ferran had brought her here in search of a book. A rare, priceless book that he had given to a whore some months ago. She winced thinking about it. The book had then been sold to some kind of a pirate that was supposedly anchored off of
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