around the outside of the cottage, their pointed noses sniffing in the air. With my wings spread wide on either side of me, I looked again into the distance, just hoping that I would see Kiera making her way back towards the cottage, deciding that it was a mistake to go see her father after all. There were only drifts of snow.
With my claws out, I flipped backwards in the air, and then raced out of the clouds and back towards the cottage.
Chapter Seventeen
Kiera
By the time I had reached the top of the small hill, the taste of the rat had finally left my mouth. Its blood was still working, sedating that constant need in me for the red stuff. The weather had eased a little, but the air was bitterly cold and my hair, shoulders, and coat were white with snow. At the top of the hill, the wind howled all around me, and I looked back in the direction I had come. I could see my footprints leading away into the distance and back towards the church, which now looked small, like part of a miniature town some way below me. Just like everything else, the graveyard and the spire of the church were now white, and from where I stood, the world looked peaceful, like a picture on the front of a Christmas card. From where I stood, I couldn’t see any statues, and despite what the Elders had said, I knew I had seen them, and I could remember what one of them had told me.
Lead us to the Dead Waters , the statue which had resembled me had said. Even now it seemed to talk on the wind which howled about the hillside. We will follow you.
But where were these Dead Waters? I wondered. And what were they?
The Dead Waters will give us life, and you can’t push back without us , the statue’s voice had told me.
Unlike what the Elders had told me, the statue had said that if I wanted to push back and save my friends, I had to bathe in these Dead Waters. As I stood on the crest of the hill, I spied a thin column of black smoke spiralling up into the white sky. It looked like a pencil smudge on a blank piece of paper. Sheltering my eyes with my hands, I peered ahead and could see that the smoke was coming from a house in the distance.
My father’s house. I looked at it, then glanced back over my shoulder in the direction I had come.
Did I listen to the statue and go back, lead them and my friends to these Dead Waters, wherever they me be? Or, did I continue on towards my father’s house and make the choice which would ultimately set my friends free? With my head tucked down, and my long hair fanning out behind me in the wind, I set off in the direction of the house and the black spiral of smoke.
The house sat alone on an area of ground which was mostly surrounded by trees and brambles. The nearest road was about a mile or more away, which you could get to by following a narrow path which led away from the front of the house. I had been able to see this as I made my way down from the hill. Not far from the house, there was a small crop of trees. They offered some protection from the snow, as I stood and spied on the house. I’d already made up my mind; I would look at him from afar. There was a temptation, knowing my father was somewhere inside that house, to run towards it and find him. I was scared, though, now that I was here. What would it be like to see him again after all this time?
I just wanted to see his face again, to know that he was all right. I could hear Murphy’s and Potter’s warnings inside my head, telling me that this man wasn’t really my father. He was, though.
It was my father in a different when , that was all.
Now that I was so close, it was easy to push Potter’s and Murphy’s warnings from my mind.
The desire to see my father again, and knowing that he was so close, was overwhelming.
Concealed behind the trunk of a large tree, I watched the house, hoping to see some sign of him. I knew already that my father in this when was slightly different from the one I had loved.
My father had always liked towns.
With my claws out, I flipped backwards in the air, and then raced out of the clouds and back towards the cottage.
Chapter Seventeen
Kiera
By the time I had reached the top of the small hill, the taste of the rat had finally left my mouth. Its blood was still working, sedating that constant need in me for the red stuff. The weather had eased a little, but the air was bitterly cold and my hair, shoulders, and coat were white with snow. At the top of the hill, the wind howled all around me, and I looked back in the direction I had come. I could see my footprints leading away into the distance and back towards the church, which now looked small, like part of a miniature town some way below me. Just like everything else, the graveyard and the spire of the church were now white, and from where I stood, the world looked peaceful, like a picture on the front of a Christmas card. From where I stood, I couldn’t see any statues, and despite what the Elders had said, I knew I had seen them, and I could remember what one of them had told me.
Lead us to the Dead Waters , the statue which had resembled me had said. Even now it seemed to talk on the wind which howled about the hillside. We will follow you.
But where were these Dead Waters? I wondered. And what were they?
The Dead Waters will give us life, and you can’t push back without us , the statue’s voice had told me.
Unlike what the Elders had told me, the statue had said that if I wanted to push back and save my friends, I had to bathe in these Dead Waters. As I stood on the crest of the hill, I spied a thin column of black smoke spiralling up into the white sky. It looked like a pencil smudge on a blank piece of paper. Sheltering my eyes with my hands, I peered ahead and could see that the smoke was coming from a house in the distance.
My father’s house. I looked at it, then glanced back over my shoulder in the direction I had come.
Did I listen to the statue and go back, lead them and my friends to these Dead Waters, wherever they me be? Or, did I continue on towards my father’s house and make the choice which would ultimately set my friends free? With my head tucked down, and my long hair fanning out behind me in the wind, I set off in the direction of the house and the black spiral of smoke.
The house sat alone on an area of ground which was mostly surrounded by trees and brambles. The nearest road was about a mile or more away, which you could get to by following a narrow path which led away from the front of the house. I had been able to see this as I made my way down from the hill. Not far from the house, there was a small crop of trees. They offered some protection from the snow, as I stood and spied on the house. I’d already made up my mind; I would look at him from afar. There was a temptation, knowing my father was somewhere inside that house, to run towards it and find him. I was scared, though, now that I was here. What would it be like to see him again after all this time?
I just wanted to see his face again, to know that he was all right. I could hear Murphy’s and Potter’s warnings inside my head, telling me that this man wasn’t really my father. He was, though.
It was my father in a different when , that was all.
Now that I was so close, it was easy to push Potter’s and Murphy’s warnings from my mind.
The desire to see my father again, and knowing that he was so close, was overwhelming.
Concealed behind the trunk of a large tree, I watched the house, hoping to see some sign of him. I knew already that my father in this when was slightly different from the one I had loved.
My father had always liked towns.
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