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Chapter Fifteen
Sierra
Only in dreams had I run this fast, with my heart in my dry throat, the soles of my feet numb from the pain of the raw forest floor. Like in most nightmares, I was running from evil, one that had every intention of ending me if I were to pause to take a breath. But unlike nightmares, this was real, and if I didn’t get away from what was after me, I would sleep and never wake again.
The last thing I remembered after waking up in that dank wagon was Esta waving a gentle hand over dead flowers that she’d brought back to life. The shock of not only seeing such an impossibility, the full picture of who—what—she truly was, still rang inside my blood.
I had trusted her, I had blindly followed my emotions, emotions that had been wrecked beyond the pale from the startling discovery that Lucius had played me, lied to me. And because I’d been so damn distracted by that pain, I’d run head-on into danger. No one knew where I was. No one knew I’d been taken. And no one would be coming to save me. Not here in this vast forest away from any civilization.
When I’d woken up with the mother of all headaches in a tented wagon that smelled of hay and sour corn, the first thing I’d realized was that the wagon was moving, taking me away from Ghypsom City. I’d waited only a few moments before the wagon stopped and a man in gray robes, the robes of the Owl, peeked inside the canvas. Thankfully, I’d feigned sleep, all the while terrified the sound of my pounding heart would give me away.
But the Servant had been satisfied by whatever he’d seen, and the canvas was shut once more, leaving me to exhale and wonder what on Titus I was going to do to get away. It hadn’t been long after that before I heard those posh male voices speaking about me outside toward the front of the covered wagon.
“…. still out cold.”
“…won’t be long before…”
I hadn’t stopped to listen. Instead, I had escaped, not even bothering to be silent, and ran as far and as fast as I could. I had no shoes, no cloak, no clue where I was. All I knew was that I had to get far away. I would not let myself be taken again.
I’d been running for what felt like an hour when the cramp in my side threatened to skewer me in half. I lurched forward, pinwheeling my arms as I slowed my body down so that I wouldn’t hit the ground. I needed to rest… going much further was just not possible right now.
So I looked around and spotted a copse of trees with thick, low-lying branches that would hide me, and crouched down and into the underbrush as far as I could while still keeping an eye out. It was much too dark to see a thing, but because of the snow that threatened to fall again any moment, the sky cast a moonlit-white on everything.
After scooting inside the blanket of trees, I sat down on the frozen dirt among a pillow of pine needles. Shivers wracked my body, and I hugged my knees to my chest, straining my ears to pick up any sound.
Not even a bird chirped.
My body wanted to stay here, wanted to dig into the pine needles and cover myself with some dint of warmth, but I couldn’t risk it. Or would it be better if I did stay, hoping those Servants would pass me by? There was no doubt they were searching for me now.
Gods, I didn’t know what to do. Tears started falling from my eyes, and I batted them away in frustration, using my shoulder to wipe at them. The movement made me aware that my osnat was gone, and I quickly touched my throat. It was naked, they had taken it.
A surge of anger warmed my blood. I was beyond tired of the Owl’s involvement in my life. What did they want with me, of all people? And what gave them the right?
Gods, why did it seem everyone in Titus wanted a piece of me?
My thoughts had me scampering out of my hiding place. I was so livid I could barely swallow, or maybe that was just the dryness of my throat. I needed water. So that’s where I would head.
Lifting my head, I shut my eyes and used my senses, which were sharper than when I’d lived as a naive daughter in Providence. If water was nearby, I’d find it.
I turned in a circle, slowly, my nose sniffing. There. I opened my eyes and marched forward, following my nose. When the scent didn’t get stronger, I broke into a jog, then a run. I ran like that for a long time until the scent gradually grew stronger, finally leading me to a sizable creek that slithered through moldy boulders of marbled rock. The water was unbearably cold, but clean and sweet, and I drank my fill, sitting on my heels.
The hoot of an owl had my heart in my throat but I stayed still, glancing above me to where a row of naked black trees with massive trunks spiraled up into the night sky like giant fingers.
The owl was as white as snow, and there was a slight glow around his large pupils. He hooted again, staring down at me. On his perch, he seemed to pace—back and forth, back and forth, as if something was wrong with him, as if he were agitated.
I smiled, forgetting for a moment the situation I was in, the strange empty forest on a winter’s night. Alone.
To my surprise, the owl lifted his massive wings, and with a whoosh, glided down to land a few feet from me. I stood slowly, staring down at him.
Hoo hoo hoooo,” it sang softly, mournfully almost. He hopped back, only to hop forward.
Trust the owl, that seer in Providence had said so long ago.
The owl glided up again, flapping his wings midflight, staring at me, then turned, flying across the creek at the narrowest point. At the bank, he dropped to the forest floor, looking back at me.
Hoo hoo hoooo.
Did he want me to follow him?
