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It’ll probably toss me around like a rag doll before this is over and done with.
I don’t particularly like the idea of being anyone’s food, but it feels particularly insulting to be taunted about it.
So I extend my hand, and a vine springs from the ground. The horned tip rips through the creature’s neck.
My intention was to send the vine through the creature’s skull, but that was unsuccessful. Apparently my vine wasn’t strong enough to make it through the creature’s brain.
Still, the mere slumps, its friends shrieking out in anger.
I don’t make it to my feet before another is upon me.
I reach for my sword, which lies uselessly in the grass. It probably won’t be much more help than the vines, considering I shirked out on those lessons, too.
The mere stomps on my hand just as my fingers brush its hilt.
Something cracks.
Actually, many things crack.
All the bones in my hand.
A terrible groan escapes my throat as the pain barrels through me. Who knew such little bones could cause so much pain?
And why are these creatures sentient enough to know when a male is reaching for his sword?
I try to summon another vine, but focusing while pain is thrumming through me, putting pressure on my skull, proves to be a task for which I am not well suited. The vine that springs up is limp, easily shredded by the mere’s whipping tail. I summon another, but this one is in even worse shape.
Yeah, I really should have practiced more.
My pitiful vines lunge for the mere’s legs, trying to trip the thing up, but it is of little use. The mere merely growls in irritation, swiping at the little vines as if they’re gnats on the backside of an elephant.
I’m going to die.
I hope Ellie isn’t watching. That she and Amity are far enough away that they can’t see what is happening.
Sadness overtakes me at the idea of Ellie having to raise our child without me.
That’s the one thing she’d asked of me in all this, isn’t it?
If you’re not here to squeeze my hand and tell me I’m spectacular while I’m quite literally ripping my body to shreds to bring our child into this world, then Evander Thornwall, I’m going to be peeved.
A pained chuckle escapes my lips. I imagine she’ll be speaking my full name when she finally meets me in the afterlife, too.
It’s the first time I’ve ever been grateful for Ellie’s mortal lifespan. Perhaps I won’t have to wait too terribly long for her to join me on the other side.
But no. I don’t want to leave her. Don’t want to watch her mourn me. Don’t want to hear her screams over my dead body puncturing the veil between this life and the next.
The thought should make my stomach roil, but it doesn’t.
What it does is give me strength.
What kind of things would you have wanted from your father?
I didn’t have an answer then, but they all descend upon me now. I wanted my father to teach me to read, to help me build fortresses out of blocks, to sneak me out to Forcier’s when I was supposed to be suffering discipline for my troublemaking.
I wanted a father who had been there.
I decide I will be there for our child.
