by S.M. Winter
it came apart, I’d tried. The food hit the water with a satisfying plop. I smiled and pushed the recessed button on its side, watching it swirl downward. I walked back to the door and set the now empty tray next to the flap, then sat on the bed. My stomach grumbled at the lack of nourishment and I sighed. It was going to be a long few days. I carefully washed the tiny blade as well and set it on the tray, then placed everything back near the metal door so it could be taken away. The message: Today was not the day.
Over the next few days I flushed all the food that was given to me. I also dumped the water they put on the tray in case they had drugged that as well. By the second day my stomach was cramping painfully and I was deathly thirsty. I was desperate enough to drink water from the toilet, which made me sick, but that also could have been the withdrawal from the drug. I shivered constantly and the voices in my head got worse. I couldn’t sleep, which seemed to be the only relief for this self-imposed torture. I argued with myself whether this was worth it.
The third day yielded some results that strengthened my resolve. I was able to touch my Element. I breathed deep and felt the Air around me shudder. I almost started crying with the joy that raced through me. I wasn’t crazy. I laughed aloud and hugged myself. I closed my eyes and felt the rippling tug of three different directions.
Imagine being sat in the middle of a circle and you had three people tied to your waist by strings. When fully extended, the string could be plucked at either end and you would feel the echoing ripple or tug. That was what it was like to finally feel my friends again. Only one string was answering my search. Two of them felt flaccid, like the string wasn’t taut. It was confusing, but perhaps that was what it had felt like when I’d been drugged. So what was happening to the other two, were they drugged as well? Were they suffering the same as I was? I hoped not.
I lay back on the cot and closed my eyes, focusing on the answering ripple. It gave me the hope that I was looking for to get through even more days without food. I breathed deep and let the time pass me by. When my next meal arrived I stood to pick up the tray but it was empty except for a toy mallard wearing a cowboy hat. Frowning, I crouched and picked up the toy. Squeezing it revealed a wheezing quack. Turning it upside down, it had the word “duck” written on the bottom. My frown deepened. A rumble from the door had me skittering backward as the door exploded inward.
I coughed and struggled to breathe through the smoke. My eyes burned with the acrid stench that now permeated the room. I patted at my hair as I saw some of the ends burn bright for just a moment. Then I was being lifted from the floor, still clutching the duck to my chest, my arms went limp and it fell from my grasp. The person began to run with me cradled close in his arms. My heart stuttered. Could it be? Was he finally here?
When my eyes cleared and the coughing subsided I was finally able to see who was carrying me and my jaw dropped. His face sent me reeling back to a time when Alexandar and I had gone to dance club for a short amount of time to blow off some steam. It was an act that had turned out to be a mistake. A man there had joined in a fight and dropped a bomb, telling me that he would marry me some day, and that he would be joining the Elementals soon. His prophecy had turned out to be accurate in the respect that someone had died soon after. We had known that everyday there was a high risk of losing our lives. I had feared for Alexandar’s life. Was he still alive? The gypsy. My mind flew in a million different directions. How was this possible? I watched as he held me with one hand and used the other to blow a door off its hinges with fire. Chauncy. I closed my eyes again as a new wave of grief washed over me. He was gone. He was really gone. I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. I would have told the Travelyr to put me down but I wasn’t sure I could walk on my own.
For a moment it seemed odd that we were running unopposed. We burst through a final set of double doors and I realized there was a battle going on around the outside of the building. Fire users seemed to be everywhere. There had to be at least fifty people, fire shooting from their hands as they fought what looked like distorted humans. Doppelgangers, as I had learned they were called. They were creatures that could take any form they wanted, but there was always some sort of tell. A few of them had let their true forms show and were fighting for all they were worth, their nauseating tan rubber skin shining in the sunlight. I shuddered. The strong arms that held me squeezed in support.
The man skidded to a halt and tossed me through the air. I extended my arms expecting to hit the ground hard, but was caught by another set of arms. This set I did not recognize.
“Get her out of here!” The gypsy yelled at the man now holding me.
I wondered idly if this man was also a gypsy.
“Yes, sir!” The world revolved around me as he turned and I was being carried away from the battle.
“Wait!” I called over the man’s shoulder as he ran. “What’s your name?”
I had this desperate need to know who this mysterious person was.
“Garridyn,” he tossed over his shoulder as he disappeared out of sight.
“Garridyn,” I whispered to myself. I looked up to the person holding me and he smiled cheekily with a wink before he began running with me in his arms.
I was astonished at how easily he could run a long distance while cradling me. Exhaustion began to tax the small amount of energy I had and I fell asleep before we found our destination.
About the Author
S.M. Winter grew up in Des Moines, Washington. She loved reading the R.L. Stein: Goosebumps series when she was young and graduated to fantasy novels shortly thereafter. She has been writing since she was able to hold a pen. Two authors and screen writers who have inspired her most are Nora Robert aka J.D. Robb and Tina Fey.
S.M. Winter graduated from Central Washington University in 2009 with a Bachelor’s degree in Theatre Arts. She spent most of the time behind the scenes, directing and writing scripts. Her favorite play is Cyrano De Bergerac which she played a part in high school and sent her on her path to Theatre Arts.
When she isn’t writing, S.M. Winter spends most of her time working at a local Starbucks and spending time with her husband and three-year-old son. Binge-watching streaming television shows and movies is another favored past time.
Read S.M. Winter’s writing tips and tricks at www.winterwarren.com .
Other Books by this Author
Look for Book Two in the Elemental Series is coming soon:
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Connect with S.M. Winter
Thank you so much for reading True North: Book One in the Elemental Series. Here are my social media coordinates:
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