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The egg…
It occurred to her that she should probably be looking for it already. Melody scanned the property. On the other side of the path, a row of thatched stone houses ran in a thin, low-slung row. There was a carriage house too, and beside it a barn — big and weathered but fully restored to its former beauty. She supposed the egg could be anywhere. But she’d check the mansion first.
The grass swished against her dress as she walked. Melody turned her head back one last time to remember where the gate was. To imprint her exit point in her mind, so that when—
What the hell?
The gate was gone. Right where it used to be, a thick, rolling mist had enveloped the treeline.
“Great,” she thought. “Already I’m lost.”
She stopped walking and peered into the mist. It appeared to be moving, or maybe it was just a trick of the dying light. The treeline also seemed impossibly far, as if she’d been walking three times as long as she had.
It didn’t make any sense.
Melody had run trac
k, all throughout high school. She knew distances well, and the point at which she entered the field had to be at least a hundred and fifty yards away. The mist had swallowed the trees there and then seemingly stopped. But left and right…
She shivered, despite the heat. Left and right the mist ran the entire length of the property, on both sides of the path. It created a big semi-circle that hugged the entire plantation grounds.
Keep moving, her little voice told her. Her legs obeyed without being asked. Melody hiked her dress higher and started taking longer strides. The field which had been so beautiful only moments ago was creeping her out now.
She looked up about halfway to the house. Oddly it seemed to be staring back at her. An strange sense of intrusion stole over her, as if she were some kind of interloper — unwanted and uninvited. Someone who snuck onto the Evermoore’s grounds. Someone who definitely shouldn’t be walking on the grass.
All of a sudden she wanted to be on the path. She could turn toward it — all she’d have to do was hang a right at a large woodpile and cut beneath the oaks. It would be easier walking for sure. And it would also—
Her head snapped to the left. She heard a noise. Saw movement.
What the—
Melody froze mid-step, her body going utterly still. An unmistakable sound reached her ears, gravelly and terrifying:
The low, angry growl of a very large dog.
Three
The hound was stocky and ferocious, with a giant bulbous head and a body rippled with muscle. It reminded her of a bulldog, only bigger. Much stronger and angrier.
Melody caught its gaze right away and maintained steady eye contact. Though her experience with dogs was limited, she knew enough not to look away. Outwardly she remained confident. Her expression portrayed strength, even defiance.
Inwardly she was absolutely terrified.
It snarled again, but Melody held still her ground. The dog’s eyes remained fixated on her. It raised its snout, sniffing the air, then curled its lips all the way back… revealing a nasty set of yellowed, slavering jaws.
Another growl started up, this one even louder and angrier than the first. A second dog stepped out from behind the woodpile…
She ran.
There’s no way I’m making it!
It wasn’t even a question. Melody could run fast — faster than anyone she knew — but this was totally different. First, she was wearing shoes not sneakers, and dressed in a ball gown. And these were dogs. They were built to run.
She got up to speed and maxed out quickly. Even so there was nothing else to do, the house was simply too far away. She could put her head down and dig deep, maybe gain an extra step or two, but already she could hear the animals racing up behind her. Two sets of paws, digging hard into the dirt. Growing louder. Growing closer…
She fell. It happened in an instant, and Melody was up again just as fast. Without checking her pursuers she broke through the line of oaks and emerged onto the road. Her shoes made loud clacking noises against the surface of the old pavers. She considered kicking them off.
As the snarls grew louder she risked a quick look back. If they were going to catch up with her, she might as well be prepared for their spring. Maybe she could fight them off. Maybe she could—
