Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
“Don’t veer off the path!” he shouted, clearly knowing what I was talking about. Manic laughter followed me toward the door.
One time. Seriously, I’d veered off the trail one time out of the thousand I’d walked it and it was all anyone talked about. There had been a good reason, too! I’d seen the glow of the Moonfire Lily from the path. They were incredibly hard to spot, often hiding between and under other flora, its glow usually contained unless you were right on top of it. If I hadn’t grabbed it then, I might’ve lost it.
Sure, I accidentally fell over a log, doused my lantern, left it, and made a mad dash for the flower. I admit I might’ve lost my head a little. It happens.
And okay, yes, after picking the flower and then standing in pitch black as its throb ebbed, I had gotten a little turned around and then couldn’t find where I’d left the fallen lantern. I shouldn’t have left it behind. That was stupid, I could admit.
But what was I supposed to have done at that point, just stand there all night and hope someone would have come to find me? No. I’d done what any rational person with a terrible sense of direction would do—I’d decided to walk until I found either the village or the perimeter line and our sentries. I had known I’d stumble into one or the other eventually.
It was not my fault that the perimeter patrol thought I was trying to sneak out without an escort. They hadn’t given me a chance to explain what had happened; they’d just tossed me over their shoulder and marched me back to Granny.
It had all worked out in the end, though. Even though leaving without permission hadn’t been my intention, I’d gracefully accepted the punishment: a hardcore beating by Granny’s watchdog, Alexander.
Crisis averted.
Did everyone really need to keep bringing it up? Literally every time I had to take the path to see her in town—every single time—it was mentioned. It had been two months! It was past getting old.
Besides, I’d gotten the flower. Given the enhancements I was already making with it and my ideas for new product, it had been a stroke of genius leaving that path, questionable decision-making along the way not-withstanding.
On a little table by the door stood my faerie-made lantern. I grabbed the handle as I exited. Outside, I tapped the top three times quickly, then two slow, followed by rubbing the base. Lights flickered a metallic blue within the shiny metal before burning brighter and brighter until the whole thing glowed indigo with swirling patches of lighter and darker blues. The effect was as beautiful as it was useful, the lantern a prized gift from Granny.
Despite the situation that led me to traipsing this path so late at night, I felt lighter, content, my heart swelling at the thought of seeing Granny. She wasn’t just my benefactor and savior; she looked out for me, provided protection from the outside world, and ensured I had all I needed. She wasn’t blood, but I thought of her as family—the only family I had left. I took every opportunity available to meet with her when she visited, chatting and soaking in her proximity.
Her cottage was a fifteen minute walk from the work shed. The indigo glow illuminated the wide tree trunks on either side of the path. The trees now crowded me closely and a hush permeated the area as crickets, night birds, and other creatures stilled or quieted within my vicinity. Ancient trees leaned far over me and strangled what little light the moon shed. Branches entwined along the sides as though in an intricate dance. With each step, the forest floor surrendered below my feet, cushioning my passage as though the path itself remembered me. Not surprising given the number of times I’d walked this route.
With the lantern held aloft, I reached the fork. To go left would take me back to the village, on the outskirts of which was my modest home. I veered right toward Granny’s cottage, a solitary dwelling that never got many visitors, as was her choice. I was one of the few. If she had business with someone—a rare occurrence—she went into the village to speak with them directly. Otherwise, she kept the village fed and clothed, ensured their houses were in repair, and saw to everyone’s needs. We wanted for nothing. All we had to do was make certain the product was quality and consistently ready for pick-up.
The path narrowed until it was hardly more than the width of a person. The glow of my lantern struggled within the oppressive darkness, the night pushing back at the light.
I trekked on as the emberflies gradually dwindled, slipping between the trunks and then behind without daring to peek back out at me. Their numbers would dwindle even further the closer I got to Granny’s. They didn’t continue their drifting too far away from the village, it seemed. No one had any idea why.