Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
He tapped his wife’s cheek. “Stay with me, Dawn. Stay with me.”
He was relieved each time she stirred. It meant she heard him, and he was even more relieved when she tapped his arm once. But her wound needed tending and she needed a bed to rest in and he intended to find both.
The mist began to fade some to the point where he could make out the shadowy shapes of the trees, making travel a little less difficult, though he still had to remain cautious. He felt the slight rise in the terrain and slowed his horse, not knowing if that was all it was, a slight rise or if it was a hill that pitched deep once he reached the top. He proceeded extra cautiously and determined it was more than a slight rise when the ground evened out and, in the not far distance, he caught sight of the top of a turret that had broken through the mist.
“I found help, Dawn,” he said and slowly maneuvered his horse down the hill as cautiously as possible to prevent his wife from suffering any more discomfort or pain.
He kept the turret in sight to guide him as he navigated his horse through the threatening mist, the autumn leaves crunching beneath the animal’s hooves. Dusk was falling over the land. He didn’t have much time. He had to reach the castle before nightfall, or its safety could well be lost to him.
The village suddenly emerged like ghostly apparitions, its numerous structures rising from the mist as eerie silhouettes. He gazed about searching for signs of life, but it appeared deserted, and Cree wondered if the village had been abandoned and if so, why?
The air was heavy with a chilling stillness, broken only by the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustling of leaves as he continued apprehensively through the village.
Cree kept himself alert to all around him and the more he gazed about the more he thought that the mist appeared to cling to the structures, veiling the village in a strange aura.
His eyes caught sight of a flickering light, possibly a torch, at the far end of the village. The dim light filtered through the dense fog, creating a hazy, distorted view, and for a moment Cree wondered if the light waved him away in warning rather than extended a welcome.
Cree led his horse slowly toward the light, his breath mingling with the mist, forming wisps of vapor that curled and dissipated into the air. His eyes strained, trying to pierce through the mirky veil, all his senses heightened by the strangeness that cloaked the village.
Dawn stirred in his arms.
“Almost there. Help is in reach,” he said, hoping his words would prove true and their situation would not worsen.
Night began to fall and if not for the flickering light, Cree would not know where he was headed. It drew closer and closer and just before he reached it, the distant howl of a lone wolf echoed through the mist.
He was glad to hear it in the distance. It meant they were safe here where they were, wherever that might be.
The light allowed him to partially see the few stairs that led to the door of the keep. He spoke calmly to his horse before he dismounted, letting him know he would tend to him as soon as he could. He would not tie his reins in case the wolves should come this way, he could run. Otherwise, the horse would remain where he was until Cree came for him.
He coiled his arm tightly around his wife and dismounted with her in his arms, adjusting her to rest comfortably against him once he was off the horse. Then he mounted the stairs and kicked at the front door with his booted foot.
He heard nothing, though he did not know the size of the keep. It could take a while for someone to answer. He kicked at the door again and again until finally it creaked open.
“I need help,” Cree said, shoving the door open and entering without being invited in.
A petite, elderly woman, her gray hair coiled in a braid at the back of her head and her eyes wide, stared at him stunned.
Cree, forgetting how his size and commanding manner could easily frighten, hurried to ease the woman’s concerns. “I mean you no harm. My wife needs help. She fell off the horse and suffered a wound to the back of her head. She is in desperate need of a healer. Do you have one?”
“Aye,” the elderly woman said, “but she is at a croft seeing to a dying man. She will not be back until morning. I will show you to a room and bring you whatever you need to tend to your wife until the healer returns. Follow me.”