from the glow of burning wood in a fireplace across the room from where she huddled.
A fireplace that hadn’t been there when she’d gone to sleep.
She held her breath, listening for any sound of the big rigs that came and went all through the night. Nothing. No sound at all but the crackling of the wood fire in a fireplace she didn’t have.
This can’t be real.
She denied her surroundings even as she crawled to the side of the bed and pushed away what appeared to be heavy curtains to peer down at the distance to the floor. Swinging her legs over the side,she dropped, a move she instantly regretted when her feet hit the cold stones.
Who in their right mind had cold freakin’ floors like this, anyway? Even when she was a kid back on the farm they’d had scatter rugs on their old wood floors.
She hugged her arms tight around her middle, realizing as she did that what she was wearing was nothing she’d ever owned. It was a thick, long-sleeved, shapeless shift that just hung from her shoulders, so long it trailed on the floor.
Not that she was going to complain about it right now. It was a good bit warmer than the gauzy summer dress she remembered having on. At least, the last time she remembered anything at all.
This can’t be real.
The room was big. Big enough, anyway, that the corners were swathed in dark. The kind of dark that could easily hide any number of unpleasant surprises for someone with an overactive imagination.
A ledge to the side of the fireplace held an unlit candle, which seemed a prudent item to get her hands on at the moment. A little more light would be welcome. Not that her imagination was overacting or anything.
Keeping her eyes fixed on her destination, she willed herself to take that first step. And the next. One foot in front of the other until—
“Shit!”
Her toe smacked into the unyielding stone of a raised hearth, and the second or so it took for the painto race from her abused digit to her brain gave that imagination of hers more than enough diversion.
She balanced her weight on one leg, her good foot pressing down onto her injured toe as if force alone could stop the pain.
The initial wave passed, leaving only irritation in its wake.
Stupid girl.
If she’d paid more attention to her surroundings rather than letting the panic of them consume her, she could have avoided that little mishap.
Lesson learned.
Shifting her weight back to both feet, she stepped up onto the hearth and stretched to retrieve the candle. Bending down, she held it close to the glowing embers until its wick sizzled and caught fire.
Not even the additional light helped her make sense of her surroundings.
She could see now that there were rugs scattered around, furry things that she’d swear were animal skins. The room itself, or at least what she could clearly see, seemed entirely made of stone. Except for the two doors, which appeared to be wood.
Thick, heavy-looking wood. Like something out of a history lesson.
And absolutely, positively like nothing she’d seen anywhere in Comfort, Wyoming.
“I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she whispered on a shaky breath as she stepped off the hearth toward the middle of the room.
Two doors.
If she wanted to find out where she was, her obvious choice seemed to be to go through one of them. But which one?
“And behind door number one,” she muttered, deciding as she spoke aloud that she would try the door closest to the fireplace.
It opened easily enough. That had to be a good sign. At least whoever had put her here hadn’t locked her in. She hesitated only a moment, gathering her courage, before stepping through into another, equally poorly lit, room.
The fireplace in here had burned down to a low ember, giving off even less light than in the first room, but she lifted her arm to hold the candle aloft and examined her surroundings.
This room was even larger than the one in which she had awoken. To her left, a small table
A fireplace that hadn’t been there when she’d gone to sleep.
She held her breath, listening for any sound of the big rigs that came and went all through the night. Nothing. No sound at all but the crackling of the wood fire in a fireplace she didn’t have.
This can’t be real.
She denied her surroundings even as she crawled to the side of the bed and pushed away what appeared to be heavy curtains to peer down at the distance to the floor. Swinging her legs over the side,she dropped, a move she instantly regretted when her feet hit the cold stones.
Who in their right mind had cold freakin’ floors like this, anyway? Even when she was a kid back on the farm they’d had scatter rugs on their old wood floors.
She hugged her arms tight around her middle, realizing as she did that what she was wearing was nothing she’d ever owned. It was a thick, long-sleeved, shapeless shift that just hung from her shoulders, so long it trailed on the floor.
Not that she was going to complain about it right now. It was a good bit warmer than the gauzy summer dress she remembered having on. At least, the last time she remembered anything at all.
This can’t be real.
The room was big. Big enough, anyway, that the corners were swathed in dark. The kind of dark that could easily hide any number of unpleasant surprises for someone with an overactive imagination.
A ledge to the side of the fireplace held an unlit candle, which seemed a prudent item to get her hands on at the moment. A little more light would be welcome. Not that her imagination was overacting or anything.
Keeping her eyes fixed on her destination, she willed herself to take that first step. And the next. One foot in front of the other until—
“Shit!”
Her toe smacked into the unyielding stone of a raised hearth, and the second or so it took for the painto race from her abused digit to her brain gave that imagination of hers more than enough diversion.
She balanced her weight on one leg, her good foot pressing down onto her injured toe as if force alone could stop the pain.
The initial wave passed, leaving only irritation in its wake.
Stupid girl.
If she’d paid more attention to her surroundings rather than letting the panic of them consume her, she could have avoided that little mishap.
Lesson learned.
Shifting her weight back to both feet, she stepped up onto the hearth and stretched to retrieve the candle. Bending down, she held it close to the glowing embers until its wick sizzled and caught fire.
Not even the additional light helped her make sense of her surroundings.
She could see now that there were rugs scattered around, furry things that she’d swear were animal skins. The room itself, or at least what she could clearly see, seemed entirely made of stone. Except for the two doors, which appeared to be wood.
Thick, heavy-looking wood. Like something out of a history lesson.
And absolutely, positively like nothing she’d seen anywhere in Comfort, Wyoming.
“I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she whispered on a shaky breath as she stepped off the hearth toward the middle of the room.
Two doors.
If she wanted to find out where she was, her obvious choice seemed to be to go through one of them. But which one?
“And behind door number one,” she muttered, deciding as she spoke aloud that she would try the door closest to the fireplace.
It opened easily enough. That had to be a good sign. At least whoever had put her here hadn’t locked her in. She hesitated only a moment, gathering her courage, before stepping through into another, equally poorly lit, room.
The fireplace in here had burned down to a low ember, giving off even less light than in the first room, but she lifted her arm to hold the candle aloft and examined her surroundings.
This room was even larger than the one in which she had awoken. To her left, a small table
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