Page 44 of Nightshade

“Very.”

“Why?”

A brief flash of water rushing over the top of my head had me squinting my eyes and shaking my head. “No. No, please.”

“Open your eyes.”

“I can’t.”

“You must.”

As instructed, I opened them to find a figure lying crumpled on the rocks below. Arms and legs bent in unnatural angles. “Papa?” The moment I whispered to him, I caught the slight turn of his head, the pained and worried look in his eyes, as he lay bleeding out of unseen wounds. “He’s alive!”

“Then, go to him.”

“How?”

“Jump.”

An unsettling distrust sat on the edge of my conscience, telling me not to do as he asked. The weight pressed down on me, though, my legs like lead, arms as burdensome as two dumbbells hanging off my shoulders. I swayed on my feet. Or maybe the world around me swayed, I couldn’t tell. At the same time, an anxious beat of terror thrummed inside of me. I could save him.

I could save him!

“It’s not too late to change your mind, Miss Ravenshaw,” a voice whispered.

Concentrating on my father’s pleading stare, I shook my head. “M’ready.”

“Are you certain?”

I nodded.

A thump at my back sent me forward. Wind rushed past me as the tickle in my stomach climbed up toward my throat. I opened my mouth to scream, but all I could muster was an unintelligible screech. The rocks faded, replaced by ground that rushed toward me with a terrifying determination.

I screamed and held out my hands to break the fall, squeezing my eyes shut for the impact that would surely crush my bones. A wintry blanket enveloped me, the wind rushing faster. Cold snapped against my skin like rubber bands, burning in hot-cold streaks over my flesh. I dared to open my eyes to find I was still falling.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Through the darkness of a night sky, the scattered clouds dispersed as I slipped through them. The sky gave way to treetops. A forest rising up from the ground toward me.

“Oh, God!” I couldn’t maneuver myself to avoid the thick tree limbs, as they reached out with sharp-tipped fingers that scraped across my legs and arms. Branches snapped as I crashed through the canopies. A thick limb slammed into my thigh, and I cried out.

Down further.

I hit the ground with a punishing blow to my left flank that banished the air from my lungs. Leaves and brush flew up into the air in a confetti explosion that fell around me. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, and gasping, I forced myself to suck in a sip of air, but my lungs had locked up with the impact.

I rolled onto my back, staring up at the break in the treetops through which the moon shined down on me. My chest relented its grip, and I wheezed a breath. Arctic, nighttime air burned my already parched throat, while I lay desperate to fill my lungs, expelling puffs of steam from my lips. In. Out. Breathe.

Breathe.

Shivers wracked my body, my muscles so stiff and weak from the unforgiving temperature. So cold. My field of view narrowed to complete blackness.

15

Lustina