Ishel (The Stone Legacy Series, #1)
Page 6
Tara rested her hand on her hip and cocked her head. “Oh, come on. I’m just kidding.”
“Definitely not funny.”
“Sorry.” She grabbed Zanya's hand. “Now come on. The longer we wait, the more likely it is she’ll catch frostbite. Poor thing’s out here in nothing but that dress.”
With each step, Zanya's feet pressed over the damp leaves, pushing muddy water through the moss, between the cracks of her toes.
Now just yards away, Tara reached out to the girl. “Hey. Come here. We’ll take you back.”
A gust of wind blew, carrying the child’s blonde waves off her shoulders. Her bright green eyes seemed to glow in the silky moonlight.
Tara dropped her arms and sighed. “I guess she likes freezing her ass off in the middle of the night.” When Tara stepped closer, the child darted into the woods. Tara scoffed, “I never want to have kids.”
Zanya blinked at the maze of shuddering trees. “Let’s get out of here.” She stepped back. “Now.”
“We have to get that girl. If she stays out here overnight, she’ll freeze to death.”
Zanya couldn’t feel the cold anymore. Whether that was good or bad, she wasn’t sure.
The little girl carved a deeper path into the forest.
Tara shook her head. “Something’s not right. It’s like she’s running away from us.”
“Maybe she’s one of the more critical psych patients.”
“I don’t know, maybe.” Tara cupped her fingers over her nose and mouth to keep them warm as she searched their surroundings. “We shouldn’t have come out here alone. Let’s go back.”
A tiny girl, no older than seven or eight years old, stepped into sight. Her nightgown was damp and smeared with mud.
Tara’s eyebrows crooked downward. “There you are.” Her tone was harsh. “Thank God. Now we can get out of here.” Tara held out her hand to the child, who only stared at her reaching fingers.
The child stepped to the side and slid her small hand into Zanya's. The little girl’s bare feet were covered in pine needles.
“Come on,” Zanya said. “I’ll carry you back. You must be freezing out here with no shoes.” She would know, being in the exact same situation. She lifted the small-framed child to her hip, and the girl wound her legs around Zanya's body. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
She didn’t reply.
“She’s probably too freaked out to talk,” Tara said. “Let’s just get back.”
Zanya did her best to shield the child from the wind as she followed Tara back toward the orphanage. She hummed the tune to Romance softly in the little girl’s ear. The melody had always calmed her. Maybe it would do the same for the kid.
The girl’s cheek pressed against hers. “Thank you for rescuing me,” she whispered in a tiny, angelic voice.
Maybe her humming was working. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”
The girl’s blonde hair bobbed up and down with a subtle nod. “Everything will be fine, Zanya. Do not be afraid.”
Zanya smiled softly. “I’m not scared. Are you?”
“No.” The little girl hugged her tighter, and the stars twinkling above them blurred into streaks. Her head spun, she gave a gasp, and her knees buckled from beneath her. She collapsed onto the damp forest floor.
Trapped in a thick fog, she fought to break through, her eyes fluttering open and closed. Snapshots of what was happening around her filtered through the mental haze.
The girl stood over her, staring down with a sweet face and bright eyes. A tiny smile curled the corners of her delicate lips.
Another voice. It was stronger. Deeper. Who... God, she was so tired. She would give anything to be able to just relax her mind and drift off to sleep.
A mixture of voices and a shout from Tara sprouted a renewed resolve, and Zanya pushed against the fog with all her might. When she managed to force open her eyes, a dark-haired man leaned over her. Tara crept toward him with a small log clenched in her hand.
Heavy lids drew over her eyes.
A loud thud followed by scrambling movements forced Zanya's eyes open one last time.
The man struggled to hold a flailing Tara under his arm like a bag of potatoes while rubbing the back of his head. Was he talking to himself? The child seemed to be paying attention, but didn’t reply. Still, while Tara kicked and punched, he continued to hold what seemed like a one-sided conversation.
A second later he dropped Tara to the ground with a shout, and lifted his shirt to find a crescent bite wound over his ribs.
The young girl loomed over Tara; then, silence.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A long time enthusiast of things that go bump in the night, Theresa began her writing career as a journalism intern—possibly the least creative writing field out there. After her first semester at a local newspaper, she washed her hands of press releases and features articles to delve into the whimsical world of young adult paranormal romance.
Since then, Theresa has gotten married, had three terrific kids, moved to central Ohio, and was repeatedly guilt tripped into adopting a menagerie of animals that are now members of the family. But don’t be fooled by her domesticated appearance. Her greatest love is travel. Having stepped foot on the soil of over a dozen countries, traveled to sixteen U.S. states—including an extended seven-year stay in Kodiak, Alaska—she is anything but settled down.
Wherever life brings her, she will continue to weave tales of adventure and love with the hope her stories will bring joy and inspiration to her readers.
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