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It’s futile. One of the wolf-things attacks a second horse, going straight for its jugular.
Where is the coachman? Where is Janvia?
My thoughts race. I should go out there and help, but what can I do?
I have no weapons.
I’m not a warrior.
Those beasts would tear me to shreds.
Besides, I can’t even move. My entire body is paralyzed with fear.
All I can do is cower under the blankets, listening to the sounds of men screaming as they’re torn apart by monsters. I hear the terrified cries of the horses, then Janvia’s shrill scream, tapering off into nothing but…
The sickening crunch.
Of a gigantic maw clamping down on warm flesh.
The cries of the soldiers grow more desperate. I hear grunts. Hoarse, laboured breathing.
Then, finally, footsteps, crunching in the deep snow.
A man, breathing heavily, staggering, trying to run.
Go,I urge, willing him on, because although father’s soldiers treat me with disdain, that alone isn’t reason enough for me to want them dead.
But he isn’t fast enough.
There’s a rush of wind. I catch hints of the beasts’ deep, musky, scent. One of the wolf-monsters growls; a raw, primal sound that sounds almost triumphant. Iseeits shadow as it surges forward, running down the poor soldier.
Crunch.
He’s gone.
All of a sudden, there’s nobody left.
The horses are dead. The soldiers are dead. Janvia is dead. The coachman is dead.
It all happened sofast.
Unable to take it any more, I look away, covering my head with the blankets.
The sound of flesh being torn apart; of bones crunching…
It’s sickening.
I’m overcome with a sudden urge to throw up, but I swallow it back down, not daring to make a sound.
I don’t want to draw their attention.
Sooner or later, they’re going to sense that I’m here.
They’re going to come for me.
I can’t even get out of here, because the door is locked from the outside.
The only thing I can do is to force myself to be very, very still. I can barely breathe.
