Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Fresh rushes muffled the thump of her collapse, but Morgaine tossed a frightened glance to where her mother softly snored nearby. Her graceless landing hadn’t disturbed the woman’s sleep, but the rising pained scream trying to rip its way out of Morgaine’s chest would.
Biting her tongue as the fresh wave of hellish fire churned her guts into knotted agony, Morgaine forced herself to be still and silent. Her mother slept on, rolling over to snore all the louder.
Blood-laced spittle dribbled from the corner of Morgaine’s mouth when she parted her teeth and dared suck in a breath.
It was imperative not to wake her mother, but by the spirits, she had to get out of their cottage before she gave herself away.
That way, the woman would not have to lie if questioned. That way, the responsibility would be squarely on Morgaine’s shoulders if her noncompliance was ever uncovered.
As if she too understood that some things were better left unsaid, after all these years, her mother had never questioned why Morgaine was conveniently gone when Alphas stole through the settlement—had no inkling that pain warned her child of the invasion.
It was Morgaine’s great shame to bear—for every time she fled, others were taken who might have found refuge if they’d only known to hide. But if she were to warn her neighbors, she would be exposed. Others would know there was something wrong with her, that she was a lawbreaker, and she knew in her heart that should an Alpha lay eyes on her...
…they would ruin her.
With her only aunt dead, her mother would be alone with no other family to comfort her.
If Morgaine were taken, who would know how to find toxic hicklim berries to make the lovely green-dyed fabric her mother was famed for sewing? Who would collect eggs and pluck the chickens? How would her mother survive alone?
Morgaine would chew her own arm off if it meant keeping the woman safe.
Boiling fever and excruciating pain? Morgaine deserved them for keeping her secrets. The good woman snoring in the corner did not.
A wave of nausea curled Morgaine’s tongue into a bowl. Gagging, she convulsed, watched the room grow darker, and was moments away from losing consciousness right there on the floor.
The males had come closer. There was no time to waste.
Arms weightier than stone pushed a traitorous body to stand on shaky legs. Biting back another scream, she grabbed the first garment she could reach. Fingers twisted by cramps fumbled the laces of the gown, leaving it hanging indecently off her shoulders. There would be no boots. She could hardly lift a foot to move forward, stumbling one perilous step at a time until she reached the humble cottage’s only door.
The latch was maneuvered, her quiet retreat unnoticed in the gloomy morning hours.
Clawing for the nearest handhold, she braced against a neighbor’s dwelling to steady a body wracked with tremors and felt a trickle run down her thigh. She had wet herself.
And she couldn't care less.
Cold sweat and misty morning air did nothing to cool the fire crackling through flesh and bones.
Every cell in her body demanded that she just lay still and submit to her fate.
How many more seasons could she crawl without screaming before a neighbor found her sobbing in a ditch?
Already she’d chewed her tongue bloody, dug her fingernails into her palms until they bled. Anything it took to stay quiet.
The Alphas were close, the shooting stars in the sky a sign they descended through the atmosphere and would touch down in mere minutes. They’d be storming through the village before the sun rose, and should she be unable to move, they would find her while ransacking the settlement, convulsing beside a mud-splattered animal pen.
Pulling desperation around her like a comforting blanket, Morgaine forced her body forward another step.
It took her over an hour to stagger the short distance to the settlement’s boundary, another hour to lurch down the road to the nearest tree line.
No matter the wildlife, the forests were safe enough if one knew where to tread—safer by far than the massive warriors, with their vermilion armor, their weapons, and their cruelty. While the Alphas went shelter to shelter taking what they desired, Morgaine would collapse beyond their notice.
While they pillaged, she’d suffer alone.
She’d suffer a thousand days of agony for her mother. She’d suffer the guilt of watching other families grieve their stolen children upon her return.
And once the sun set, their ships bursting with stolen people and goods, the Alphas would have no reason to linger. They would leave. They always did. And her pain would end as it always did.
Morgaine only had to stay unseen for one day.
But freedom wouldn’t count if she were found writhing on the road.
A sharp turn to the right, and the grass’ morning damp began to weigh down her dragging skirts. Fabric caught on her ankles and sent Morgaine sprawling against a dogwood tree.