I study it with a frown. Handmade, roughly finger-length, braided from faded crimson thread flecked with darker strands. The braid is looped at one end so it could be linked to a belt or knotted around the wrist. Tiny traces of soot cling where ash has been rubbed in.
“For luck,” she says. “And to give an old woman comfort. Remember, do not venture into the woods after dark…”
Her words trail off.
And she accused Pippa of being one for dramatics!
The only sound is the rhythmic ticking of the kitchen clock. There is a clock in my bedroom too, and in the front shop… Why is it only now that I notice she keeps one in every room?
For the first time since arriving in Merrywood, I feel unsettled, low in my belly.
The fire spits a spark that dies before it reaches the flagstone floor. Mistress Nina mutters a curse or blessing under her breath in an ancient tongue I do not know. The sound of it crawls along my skin.
I tuck the charm deep into my pocket and make her a promise. “I shall wear it always.”
Chapter Two
EVANTHE
The clanging of a loud bell rouses me from sleep. I do not know what it signifies, and fear clutches me, driving away the remnants of a cozy dream. I push the covers aside, thrust my feet into boots, and snatch up my dressing gown from the end of the bed.
I find Mistress Nina in the kitchen, her hair sticking out of her night cap and her face pale in the lamplight. A great crashing sound comes from the direction of the street out the front of the building.
“Quickly, Evanthe. Out the back,” she says. “Head for the garrison. Follow the other townsfolk. It is where we all go when the bell sounds.”
“Is it the wolves?” I say.
“No, dear. That is the raider bell.” She makes the sign of the Goddess. “Let us pray the wolves come, for they punish any raiders foolish enough to attack a town under their ward. Now, go quickly. Straight there, mind.”
I pause once outside and enclosed in the darkness of the cobbled alleyway. The only light to pierce the gloom comes from a few upper windows here and there, where, in their rush, people have left lamps on. The air is cold with the edge of frost, and a sharp breeze tugs at my dressing gown. Screams rise—a strange cacophony that warns of danger approaching.
My eyes feel too wide, stretched, and my thoughts refuse to settle into anything coherent. I look behind me for Mistress Nina’s reassuring presence.
Only, she has turned the other way.
“Where are you going?!” I cry.
“I need to see to something. Do not worry, I will be right behind you. Now go!”
I don’t want to leave her, but her expression is unusually stern and brooks no argument.
I do as she tells me, and start off quickly along the uneven cobblestones. The narrow thoroughfare runs all the way along the back of the houses and shops down to the square. Although it is yet a little way ahead, I can see where the alley ends: the square glows with a faint, steady light. The garrison is on the other side—a promise of safety if only I can reach it.
As I hold onto that thought, a shadow drops from a low roof ahead. A man, leering, with a dagger flashing in the light that spills from a window above me. I skid to a halt, my breath catching. His blade drips a dark substance… I suspect it is blood.
“Pretty little thing,” he sneers.
Behind him, another man tosses a lantern into a nearby window. Glass shatters, and flames flare to life. He spins toward the noise and I use the distraction to dart around them. An angry cry and the sound of pounding footsteps follow me into the town square where my plans to reach the garrison come undone.
I am confronted by mayhem—I look around wildly as I realize my way across the square is blocked, with our troopsin their red jackets taking on the raiders, fleeing people… and bodies.
“Where’d ya think yer going, lassie?” the same sneering voice calls from behind.
I veer around one pitched battle and take the street leading south toward the church and, beyond it, the woods. Terror clouds my mind and judgment; there is only the desire to escape the violence. A garrison soldier cuts down a raider to my right, but I pay it no mind. My pursuer curses then issues more lewd threats as I weave around the pockets of violence.
From behind comes a sudden snarl—one that sets the hairs on the back of my neck rising. I glance over my shoulder even as I run, just in time to see a giant russet wolf powering toward the cutthroat chasing me. At the last second, the wolf shifts into a horrifying werebeast and slams into his prey. Giant clawed hands slash as massive jaws snap around the man’s neck.
Just as a scream leaves the raider’s mouth, the sound is abruptly cut off.
