Rain (Stranger in the Woods Book 1)

by India R. Adams

  Parker impatiently asks the Vikes, “What else do you know that we don’t?”

  Sage’s brows burrow. “I assumed this was just another plague—”

  “And dey finully gave up de fight where wee live?”

  Hunter looks disturbed. “We have been concentrating so hard on Rose, we haven’t stopped to ask why they moved here.”

  We aren’t far into our trip when we sense someone rushing to us. Knives are retrieved and stances taken, even though we have no idea what would attack us during the day. Ivar suddenly stands tall. “Bolli?”

  A younger Vike, Bolli, known for his speed, runs through the trees. I’m surprised to see him since he was left behind in Scotland. “It is me, my leader. I picked up on two trails and chose the more offensive.”

  Like me, Bolli’s travels have caused him to lose his accent. Bolli laughs as Ivar hugs him and plants a wet kiss on his cheek. “Well, vee all kno who yu got dat trait from.”

  Olaf embraces Bolli and touches his face as if worried for the overgrown young male. “Yu mother seys I smell handsomely. Why were yu sent, my young?”

  “Father, so good to see you. The king has been moved. We thought you should know, in case it has something to do with what is happening here. I rushed to you.” Bolli is the spitting image of Olaf. No one questions on who his true blood father is, but Ivar has always treated Bolli as his own.

  “Ivar, who is the king?” Parker asks.

  “He eez da king of da Clones vee hunt. We refer to heem as da son of da devil.”

  Bolli adds, “We were tailing them through France and Spain, all the way to Portugal, but lost them in a storm across the North Atlantic.”

  “Last known direction?” asks Olaf.

  “Southeast,” Bolli answers with regret.

  The king is heading straight for us.

  Chapter Thirty

  Rose

  With a basket of dirty laundry on each hip, I walk with Storm to do the washing. As we exit the village, Gunner heckles from behind. “How’s the American dream working out for ya?”

  “Bite me, Warrior.”

  “Hey, Storm, do me a favor, and wash her mouth out while washing clothes.”

  Storm looks innocently perplexed. “Is your mouth dirty, Rose?”

  “No, just another dumb human expression.”

  With a bucket handle in each hand, Storm giggles and follows me to a spring. Even with laundry to do, I enjoy the walk. With the sun shining, it’s so quiet and peaceful. It helps get Ryder’s journey off my mind.

  “You enjoy Gunner’s company?”

  I step over a log. “Oh, God yes. He can dish it and take it. He’s a blast.”

  “Does Ryder not want to share you at night?”

  My head tilts as I look at Storm with the sun blessing her shiny dark hair. “Umm, not following you.”

  She observes me walking in front of her. “No, I’m following you.”

  “No.” I laugh. “I mean, I don’t understand what you’re trying to explain.”

  Storm covers her mouth as if embarrassed. “Oh, my apologies. I meant, you don’t share your home with Gunner, yet you tend to him, so, I—”

  “Ohhhh! No, Gunner and I are not together like that. That Viking sharing thing.”

  “The other females think Gunner is yours.”

  “I keep trying to explain this, but no. It’s not like that. I tend to him only because we love each other—as friends.”

  “But you are with his child, and he is always with you.”

  “We are best friends. Gunner and I had a night together that led to—we’re always together because we have been all our lives.”

  “So he is available?”

  I stop walking. “Are you asking?”

  She looks around with a puzzled expression. “Yes, it is I. Storm.”

  I giggle. “No. Are you asking for you? Ryder told me you lost your mate.”

  “Ohhhh. No, I ask for the other females who are very fond of Gunner, but I did not want to interfere with your relationship.”

  I smile for my friend—the stud muffin. “Gunner is open for business. Tell your friends to have at him.”

  “Have at him?”

  “Why can’t I remember to talk better? What I mean is, Gunner is not in a relationship, and well, I can’t speak for him, but I’m sure he would like new friends.” After a moment I ask, “Storm, how did he pass? Don’t answer if I’m being rude.”

  “No. You are not rude, dear Rose.” Storm inhales deeply. “It was a sudden flood. I believe humans call it a flash flood. He was pulling young to safety when the water overpowered him, and he hit his head.” Her eyes close. “I can still see how hard he hit that rock.” Her eyes reopen and she… smiles. “But he saved four young before passing.” She touches her belly tenderly. “My young will be proud.”

  Softly, I tell her, “I wish I could have met him.”

  She beams. “A male of worth.”

  The spring is some distance from the village. I’ve been told they camp away from water to avoid detection. Beautiful lakes and springs attract visitors. The elves, of course, prefer to keep out of sight. As well as they are hidden from the naked eye, they take extra precautionary measures with their shelter. This doesn’t bother me. The walk is wonderful, and I appreciate every moment of it. Besides, laundry doesn’t build here like at home. Elves don’t have body odor, so I’m only washing elf clothes that are truly soiled from labor, and my own clothes since I’m merely a stinky human. I’ve actually noticed my own body changing. When you eat pure, organic foods, your skin glows, and your waste becomes less foul. I guess your body uses more of greens than a bag of chips.

  Storm and I finally reach the spring and kneel at the shoreline. Shoulder to shoulder, Storm and I go to work. I start scrubbing the soaped clothing on a rippled board—half in and half out of the water in my bucket—and then hand it off to Storm. She repeats my process, except without soap, then places the wet clothing in a waiting basket and exchanges her water for fresh. The wet clothes in the basket will soon hang on the clothesline back at the village.

  Elves only use the most basic, homemade, natural soaps possible because they are the most organic folks I’ve ever met and to not disrupt the ecosystem. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, Storm. You have been so kind to me. Everyone is, but you have gone out of your way, and I really appreciate it. I believe the fates chose wisely when they picked you to be pregnant with me.”

  She bashfully wrings out a shirt. Her silver eyes well up as she looks at me. “It is an honor, and I feel the same, Rose. You are a gift I treasure—”

  Something over my shoulder catches her stare, and Storm’s face shifts from joy to terror. Before either of us can scream, dirty hands cover our mouths from behind. Too stunned to move, I see a hand practically covering her face with such strength. Then it walks around me to get a better hold on her. When I see what has captured us, I understand what nightmares are all about.

  These are not the glowing red eyes that had plagued me. These are monsters. We are surrounded by at least thirty trollish, filthy creatures the size of Storm and I. Not short, kick-you-in-the-shin kind of trolls. Large muscled, fat fingered, slobbery abominations.

  Many hands grab at us as Storm and I fight the awful creatures. Their thick fingers are so incredibly strong, I’m sure they leave marks as they easily dominate us. What replaces the hand over my mouth is a salty-tasting cloth. The smell and knowledge of the rag being someone’s sweat rag makes me instantly ill. It’s wrapped tightly, half in my mouth, almost cutting the corners of my lips.

  Storm’s eyes look scared for us both, but when these disgusting troll creatures begin to only take me, she’s terrified, as if she knows more about my captors than I do, and she’s never going to see me again. When she tri
es to kick one, I begin to understand her naming. A brutal force lies underneath her beauty, but her wrath only makes them angrier.

  As I’m held to the ground and tied, I moan, my eyes begging her to stop so maybe she will live, but Storm is not going down without a fight. After some debating and struggling, they hit her on the back of the head, knocking her unconscious. My eyes close. I have never seen that done before. It’s gruesome.

  Ryder… I beg for him but get no reply. I know he’s too far away to hear me. Even if I could call for Gunner, I suddenly realize I wouldn’t. I don’t want my best friend to die trying to stand by his promise. Due to these trolls’ immense strength, Gunner would only last a little longer than Storm, and I would have to witness it.

  I’m yanked to my feet. My hands have been tied behind my back, connected to a rope around my waist. My continued fight has a troll going to Storm and threatening to kick her belly. I scream, but all that can be heard is a muffled attempt. Mid kick, he looks at me, making sure I’m getting the message. I nod frantically. I will go with you. I will go quietly. Just don’t hurt her anymore or her unborn. My obedience spares Storm.

  The rope around my waist is attached to the rope being pulled by a single beast as I follow my captors on foot. Fear doesn’t have time to set in as I’m forcefully led away. I keep looking back to Storm, who’s tied up, lying on her side, eyes closed. More worried for her than myself, tears pour from my eyes as I helplessly watch her and her unborn get farther and farther away.

  Ropes unmercifully tear into my wrists as the creature’s odor pelts my nose. I keep wondering why I’m being taken by them and what they have planned for me. When my imagination takes off, I shut it down because fear is finally presenting itself, rising up like a three-headed dragon.

  Not familiar with the woods this far from the village, I’m not sure what direction we’re headed. I try but can’t keep track of my surroundings. Then I study the ground. These disasters on feet are hardly covering their footprints, almost too arrogant to believe anyone would dare to follow them. If I get free, I will follow this trail.

  Hours pass, and we arrive at a fast-moving river. I start to pull back. How will I swim with my hands tied? The bastard holding my rope yanks so hard he almost snaps my back in half. My scream is muffled by the gag, but it starts an argument between them. I’m not able to understand their muddled language or learn my fate. Another troll grabs and throws me over his shoulder. The landing of his shoulder bone into my stomach scares the hell out of me. I only have a bump, but it doesn’t feel right to put weight on the baby like this. I guess that’s not the worst of my problems. This troll is too short, and the deeper we go into the water, the more likely I am to drown. I keep arching my back, holding my head up higher and higher, but I’m eventually taking water into my lungs as he struggles to swim across.

  I see water crashing around us. I beg my lungs not to breathe, but it takes him too long to cross, and I inhale water. By the time we get to the other side, I’m choking and gagging with the cloth still in my mouth. The creature throws me to the ground on my back, squishing my cold hands. The slam causes more coughing, and I worry desperately for my baby. The hope of being rescued is fading away. Hope is replaced with abuse and mistreatment.

  A creature removes the gag, and I vomit water. Without care or gentleness, they sit me up and proceed to beat between my shoulder blades. The pain is excruciating. They use such force I’m not sure if they have ever dealt with a human before. They’re so close to breaking bones, I would scream if it weren’t for my choking.

  Before I can catch my breath, my hands are untied then retied in front of me, and I’m being forced back to my feet. We’re moving again. At least the cloth is left out of my mouth. I guess they know we’re too far for anyone to hear me if I scream. This makes my eyes water.

  The troll who has a hold of the rope attached to my bound wrists is not concerned whether or not I can keep up. He keeps pulling hard enough to dislocate my shoulders when I fall behind. If I hit the ground, I’m sure he will drag me along. My foot catches a root, and I fall. As I hit the dirt, a stick gouges into my hipbone, causing a blood-curdling scream. There’s no sympathy from my captors, only annoyance as they pick me up off the ground and yank the protruding stick free from my flesh. As I scream in complete agony, I’m choked by a fat palm and shown the dirty cloth in warning. I muffle my pitiful cries to avoid more torture while looking down at the blood seeping from the puncture. I’m forced to move on.

  Eventually, my clumsy limping causes another trip and fall, sending me flying head first into a tree trunk. My sight changes. The woods blur and distort as I stagger back to my feet. Warm blood runs down my face. I’m beyond exhausted, and the head injury makes it almost impossible to go on.

  The sun is going down, and a new fear arises: the Clones. Are they going to find me? Or are they behind this abduction? Am I headed for more danger, or would the Clones be just as afraid of these horrifying trolls as I am? I can’t believe that I’d prefer the Clones at this point, but Ryder told me when one got near me in my bedroom, he seemed gentle with me.

  My hip throbs, and every muscle in my body aches and stiffens as if I’m freezing in time. Whatever Ryder’s blood does for me, however it gives me energy, has ended. My legs simply refuse to go any further. Not able to force one more step, I hit my knees in a haze.

  Resting on my knees, I smile as I see Ryder walking to me. I begin to cry and call out for him as he approaches me, wanting to touch him, but I can’t raise my arms. When the open palm slams across my face, my body hits the ground, and I realize I’ve been hallucinating. With absolutely nothing left in reserve, I lie on my side where the hit has placed me and watch my captors argue. I refuse to have shame in my need for mercy because my body literally gave all it had.

  I don’t know if I’m cold or in shock until a fire is built, and my mind begins to comprehend my surroundings again. I’m not nicely offered a comfy spot by the fire. I’m dragged by my hair and placed there. I remain motionless except for my tremors.

  Watching the trolls drink water and eat food is another low point. I’m starving and thirstier than I’ve ever been, but I won’t give them the satisfaction of allowing them to poison me on top of everything else—if they offered. They don’t.

  Exhaustion wins, and my eyes close on the sight of the chomping jaws of the most repulsive creatures alive. I fall to sleep with words whispering in my head, wondering what they mean.

  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

  Before that happens, I must learn to trust…

  The hand clasping over my mouth wakes me. The whisper that comes next makes me want to cry, but there’s no fluid left in my body for such a thing as thankful tears. As I look up at Gunner, I see lightning bugs all around me.

  Gunner nervously and quietly pulls me to my feet, watching the sleeping trolls. His eyes are wide as he digests what I spent the day with. He winces when I can’t carry my own weight, and I’m wobbly on my feet. Gunner’s jaw locks, and anger takes over. I try to shake my head to tell him to stay calm, but my baby has consumed all the energy my human body can offer on its own.

  Lightning bugs dance in front of Gunner’s face, demanding his attention, then fly off behind him. Gunner bends his knees, preparing to put me over his shoulder. Inside my head, I scream no, but this young male can’t hear me. So I place my tied hands on my belly. My baby can not handle another onslaught.

  Gunner stills and stares at my stomach, contemplating. Still partly supporting my weak body, he rubs his thumbs over the rope attached to my wrists. Gunner doesn’t sever the rope that is cutting the blood circulation off to my purple useless hands. He uses that rope to his advantage, putting my tied hands over his head. Now I’m locked to him. He grabs my thighs and lifts me to his waist. I use the ounce of energy I have left and tighten my arms and legs the best I can.

  One
of his arms wraps under me, becoming my seat. The other holds me to him as he slowly and as quietly as possible backs away. My vision is still impaired from my head injuries, but I watch the lightning bug fairies leading us away. Gunner’s heart beats rapidly against my chest because we are in a world of hurt. Selfishly, I’m relieved we’re in it together.

  As a troll stirs, Gunner freezes. The ugly creature stills again, remaining asleep. Gunner resumes backing away. I’m thankful for the reprieve of not being forced to view the trolls for a moment. I watch the dancing light off in the distance. Once far enough from my captors, Gunner takes the chance and turns away. He whispers, “Watch my back, baby. Call for Ryder.”

  My reprieve is over. Now I’m seeing the trolls because my only view is what’s behind Gunner. I nod and Reflect, Ryder.

  Nothing.

  “He’s not answering,” I whisper.

  “Just keep trying.” He rubs his head to mine.

  Ryder, I need you. In trouble…

  Silence.

  The silence only lasts for seconds. Gunner whispers, “No! Come back,” and takes off running like a bat out of a blazing hell. The lightning bugs must have picked up speed. The grumbles of my captors begin, and I realize why the fairies raced away. They are trying to give us a head start. Gunner takes no time to worry if I will get motion sick. We have no time to care about such trivial matters. The grumbles become yells. The enemy realizes I’m gone.

  I scream in my head, RYDER! My best friend leaps over fallen trees and any obstacle in his path. I keep expecting to be jarred with every landing, but Gunner’s thighs are giving appropriately and move at a stealth speed, just as he was taught. I remain securely attached to him. Gunner is gaining lots of ground between us and the trolls, but the horrid individuals are, unfortunately, not as slow as one would guess at first or second glance.