Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Worry radiated from Krunk, so she stroked his face. In many ways, they’d grown up together. He’d seen her chased by centaurs eager to eat her organs to extend their lives. Hunted by fae intent on using her in some despicable way. Tracked by ogres seeking to enslave her. Pursued by trolls determined to breed. Used and discarded by the only male she’d ever (thought) she loved.
“I’ll be safe,” she promised. She was always safe nowadays. Strike first. And last. No exceptions.
Krunk clicked to the others. Linda—another favorite, because they were all favorites—scrambled to hand over a strip of brown cloth.
Love lapped at Viori’s heart as she draped the material over her head, hiding her mass of auburn hair. “So thoughtful,” she praised, and Linda’s trunk seemed to swell with pride.
Stomach protesting with increased vigor, she blew kisses to her adored ones. “I love you all. I’ll return as soon as I can, I swear it. Just...wait for me here, and all will be well.”
Viori ignored the clench in her chest and flittered to a town she’d looted once before. Hmm. Huts reduced to rubble. No one about. What had happened here?
To another town she went... Hmm. It, too, lay in shambles. So was the next. And the next.
A sole location remained. The worst of the bunch, located in the farthest part of the kingdom, past a stretch of gnarled trees and toxic plants, at the edge of Grimm Forest. A dangerous land teeming with ogres, trolls and centaurs.
Or a formerly dangerous land. She found no sign of life here, either.
She flittered to the border of a mountainous terrain—nope. She most certainly did not. Brow furrowed, she tried again. But again, the ability failed her. What—why—what?
Testing her capabilities, she returned to Grimm Forest, beside a tangle of crooked trees. Okay. All right. Her ability still worked. When she aimed for a spot past this one, closer to her desired destination, however, she met with another failure. So. There must be a dividing line between flitterable and nonflitterable zones. Why? How?
With no other choice, Viori walked past the tangle of limbs, only to draw up short when she exited. Her jaw plummeted. A bustling campsite loomed ahead.
A small, impoverished village used to exist here, complete with mud huts, laundry lines and a lone well. Now tents and structures built from wood and stone lined cobbled streets. Males and females of every age and color bustled and hustled as far as the eye could see. Cooks chopped what looked to be black potatoes near blazing fire pits. Beyond them, soldiers sharpened weapons and trained in groups.
An incredible aroma drew her focus to the firepits. Stews and porridge and breads, oh my... Throughout the centuries, Viori had stolen delicacies, rummaged through garbage cans and scavenged for morsels in the earth. Nothing beat the home-cooked meals parents prepared for their families.
Smacking dry lips, she tripped forward. Multiple conversations infiltrated her ears, the words and tones merging. So much noise. Too loud for her untrained ears. Tremors invaded her limbs, her steps slowing. But did she stop? No. So hungry.
If anyone presumed to approach her, she would go on the defensive and make them sorry. For her, any being she encountered fell into one of two categories: foe or potential foe. All foes responded solely to aggression. Viori’s specialty.
As she closed in on an abandoned cauldron, someone bumped her. She tripped forward, nearly crashing. “My apologies!” that someone called. A lovely blonde who continued on, the hem of a well-made blue dress swishing at her ankles.
Hissing, Viori swiped out with sprouting claws. Unfortunately, she scratched the air.
Any other day, she might’ve given chase to teach the girl a lesson. Mess with me and suffer. But a throng rounded a corner, others bumping into her. She spun this way and that, gasping. Thoughts jumbled. Too many people! Too close! Panic threatened to constrict her airways.
Viori shrank into herself, making her body a smaller target as she hurried onward. Up ahead, an assemblage of soldiers escorted two huge, hulking beasts in chains. Trolls. Once the most dangerous beings in the realm. With good reason! Horns with razor-sharp tips flared from their scalps. Long, thick fangs extended over their lips. Six-inch claws curled from their nail beds.
Hatred and hunger glittered in their eyes and crackled in their roars, tempting her to both attack and run. Forget food. Forget clean clothing. She would flitter home—argh! The ability failed her.
Rerouting... Okay. She would walk to Grimm Forest, then flitter to the swamp from there. She—A strong hand clamped on her upper arm, wrenching her to a halt. The owner of that hand stood at least a foot taller than Viori. He was shirtless and stacked with sweat-glistened muscles. A head of curly white hair matched the thick beard covering his jaw. The finest of lines bracketed his eyes. He was a father, then.