Face twisted, I pull at the tender bud, ripping an aching moan from deep inside my gut, feeling like the flower’s roots are woven around my clavicle—like the only way to get it off is to snip through its stubby stem.
Nausea slathers the internal walls of my chest.
I give it another aching tug, tears welling, and my mouth falls open in a silent scream.
It’s stuck.
Panic claws up my throat, sharpening my breaths. I cup water over my shoulder to soothe the throbbing hurt, then watch in horror as it frees those petals free from their twisted bind, coaxing them to bloom …
I need it off.
Teeth gritted, I pinch it again—
A low, rumbling sound makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Slowly, I look over my shoulder.
My blood turns to ice, every muscle locking at the sight of a mammoth beast prowling through the smoky residue of my desolation, enormous paws stomping deep prints in the ash, its head tucked between wide, bulky shoulders as it sniffs the ground with heaping whuffs.
Vruk.
It’s twice the size of the ones etched into the folds of my brain—ink black, bulging muscles shifting with each roving step. Its sharp ears are pinned back, fur slick and smooth aside from its thick, regal mane.
Run,that voice inside me screams.
But I can’t move … think …breathe.My feet are cast in stone, tethered to the silty riverbed.
A fallen branch crunches beneath the weight of its mighty paw as the beast sniffs at the fried remnants of a leg, and its low, thunder-borne growl ripples across the water’s surface.
Across my pebbled skin.
Maw renting open, it takes the limb between its piercing fangs, drops low onto its haunches, and feasts—twisting its head to the side, masticating the remains to a savage rhythm of crunching, popping, grinding sounds.
My stomach twists, a small breath puffing free as I look to the spot I entered the water. To where I left my necklace and blade sitting on the edge of the bank.
My heart smashes against my ribs so hard I fear they might crack.
I edge my foot forward an inch, then another, then set it down, keeping my stare trained on the beast. Its ears twitch while it chews, using its mighty paws to reposition the leg for its next pulverizing bite.
I know how to be silent—I do. But right now my heart isscreaming;pumping in fast, urgent beats.
Too loud.
Its thick, pink tongue threads out and laps around its chops before it pushes up off the ground, its inky underbelly stamped in ash as it prowls toward another heap of flesh.
The torso I flipped.
My fingers reach formy chain and blade, gripping them both, pulling them back along the grass—stare caught on the scenting beast.
Its head whips in my direction, black eyes hitting me with such bold, primal force that I can almostfeelthose fierce, gore-covered teeth splitting through my flesh, releasing a burst of blood.
It snarls, the sound sawing through the space between us like a serrated blade.
Run!
I kick my feet out from beneath me and fall back into the water, letting the swift current snatch me under.
My breathing is choppy as I creep up the hill, sodden hair slick against my ribs and dripping down the backs of my bare legs. Crouching low, I edge over the rise, seeing the small orchard—blessedly unaffected by my blazing force of destruction.
