Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Several of the men had to be dragged in front of the selection disk as one of the elders forced their hand into the jaws of the wolf. Every last one broke down into relieved sobs upon learning he was not chosen.
“Raina. Step forward,” intoned one of the elders.
Standing before the effigy, I met my grandmother’s unfeeling gaze from across the dais. Sucking in a deep breath, I defiantly raised my chin and, without taking my eyes off her, placed my hand inside the wolf’s mouth.
Wincing from the sharp bite of pain as cold stone broke through my skin, I looked down and tried to wrench my hand free from the enchanted wolf’s mouth. The jaw stayed clenched. In a panic, I looked to my grandmother again. Her visage seemed warped and distorted. Her thin lips pulled back in a taunting sneer displaying sharp teeth as her large eyes glistened with triumphant hatred. In a rage, I pulled back and swung my trapped arm sharply. The heavy marble disk tottered on its pedestal and tipped backward, releasing my hand moments before it crashed to the dais floor, shattering. There was a collective horrified gasp from the crowd. Their shock turned to fear as I raised my arm. The back of my hand glistened with bright crimson blood as it dripped down my sleeve. It flowed from two small puncture wounds. The mark of the stone beast.
The sky itself burned a bright orange and red as the sun descended.
On the horizon was the faint outline of the moon.
The blood moon was rising.
The village had made their selection.
Me.
Once again, I was pulled and dragged through the crowd. Their sympathetic glances could not hide their relief that their own loved one had not been chosen. Better it was the red-headed outcast. The unwanted granddaughter of an elder rather than a son of a prominent family.
Led to the top of the square, I was pushed over the threshold of the sanctuary. The heavy wooden doors closed, silencing the harried noise of the crowd outside. The air was cool and musty smelling inside the enclosed chamber. Like the square, it was made entirely of stone. The floor, ceiling and walls, all hard, unrelenting stone. There were no furnishings or artwork, save for a large, water-filled stone basin decorated with a mirror image of the wolf from the selection disk. My chest constricted as I found it hard to breathe. I hated confined spaces such as this.
I turned to flee but my path was blocked by two large women. Refusing to meet my gaze, they nodded their heads forward. Turning once again to face the chamber, I watched as three women dressed in heavy, hooded robes of white entered from a hidden door tucked somewhere in the shadows.
“Disrobe,” came the stern command.
“Why?” I asked, clutching the front of my dress close to my body, heedless of the blood which now stained my bodice.
“The sacrifice must be prepared. Disrobe.”
I recognized the voice of one of the women. It was Marla, the kind lady who owned a bakery near my home. Yet, in this chamber, she was acting as though she didn’t know me…didn’t care.
“Marla, please. I don’t understand all this. You must know my grandmother planned—”
“The sacrifice must not speak. Disrobe,” came her even response.
“Stop calling me the sacrifice!” I screamed. “My name is Raina. Raina. Say it!” The shock was beginning to wear off as the gravity of my situation bore down on me.
“Place hands on the sacrifice. We must prepare her,” intoned Marla, her face obscured by the large hood of her robes.
The two women from behind snatched me by my upper arms, propelling me forward. My slippered feet kicked and dragged against the smooth stone floor.
“This is madness! Stop! Stop!”
My pleas and cries went unheeded as determined hands tore at my clothing. Soon I was naked and shivering inside the cold chamber. Furtively shifting my gaze from woman to woman, I tried to back away. Harsh hands grabbed me from behind. Pushing me forward, I felt the sharp edge of the stone basin scrape against my bare stomach before my head was forced under the water. Bubbles caressed my face and neck as I screamed in surprise. A strong hand gripped my hair and wrenched me backward. I had only a moment to choke on some air before my head was forced into the water again. My hands flailed as I tried to dislodge the grip on my hair. The cool water cascaded down my front to pool at my bare feet. I was forced under the water five times. I could hear the muffled sound of eerie chanting as it echoed around the chamber.
Two of the robed women stepped forward to place two poles with stretched canvas between them over the basin.
Exhausted from my struggles, I did not protest when I was lifted and forced to lay upon the makeshift bed. The women forced my legs open and stretched my arms above my head. Ruthlessly, they began to painfully pluck all the hair from my body from the neck down. Groaning, I tried to shift my hips, to protect my hidden core, but their grip was too strong. My water-chilled skin began to warm from the agony of the hundreds of tiny pricks and pulls. When it was over, they began to chant once more. Through half-closed eyes, I saw one of the robed women approach me with a large flagon. Raising the clay pitcher over her head, she called out to the ancient gods before pouring the heavily scented oil over my body. It felt warm and soft. The earthy scent brought me strange comfort.