the lookout tower, Star thought she could pinpoint the location from the walls above. Ravencliff would get a specimen. That is, if she managed to get back in at all.
As the exhilaration from the triumph of battle welled inside her, she had to remind herself the beast was but one in perhaps a hundred, even a thousand. Although it felt like she’d conquered the world, it was a small victory at most. She still had to be cautious.
Holding the torch above her head, Star found her way back to the edge of the wall. Before she’d jumped, she had calculated the exact spot where the bunnyfly had been found in relation to the walls of Ravencliff. The southern side was her best bet at finding the breach.
Star walked along the wall, her gaze scanning the black rock for cracks in the facade, crumbling debris or any sign of an opening. To her chagrin, the wall was solid without as much as a chink in the ebony facade.
Once several feet down the incline toward the mountain, Star suspected the bunnyfly had miraculously flown over the fortress barricade. The terrain grew harder to cross and a scraggly patch of briars and shrubs forced her away from the wall. She almost continued onward but changed her mind, deciding a methodical and meticulous approach would yield better results.
Using her sword, Star cut down the overgrowth. Beneath the tangled mass was a fissure four feet tall and five feet wide. Star ran her fingers over the grooved edges on the wall of the passageway. This was not done by wind, rain or imperfections in the rock itself. These gashes were made by a human tool. Star’s first thought was a pick axe, but the rock was far too strong to crack by any metal implement she’d seen forged.
She paused, mulling over the serrations in the rock. Whoever made this passage had devices far stronger than she could imagine. Advanced tools meant human intelligence and power. Star had the sinking feeling she was in far over her head.
Cautiously, she ducked inside. The passageway slanted at a steep incline, carved from the mountain. Star climbed with her torch in hand. There was no way she would stumble through the darkness with no light. Her small stature made it easy to traverse winding turns in the passageway. It took only a few minutes to slip through to the end, where moonlight shone between cracks in the ceiling.
Star blew out her torch. She realized she stood under slates of limestone. Reaching her hands above her head, Star moved one of the slates and hefted herself out of the secret passageway, surfacing underneath large ferns.
Pushing the greenery away, she thought she emerged in a jungle from one of the stories her mother read to her at night as a child. Then, as she emerged from the ferns, she recognized her surroundings as none other than the private atrium where she’d delivered the bunnyfly. It must have slipped through a crack in the granite slabs as the princess studied, plunging down the tunnel and onto the moors.
There was a glass door at the far end of the atrium, opposite the side where she had entered with the guard. She knew one way led toward the front of the castle, meaning the opposite direction would take her to the inner chambers, where the royal family would be sound asleep.
Leaving her torch in the tunnel, Star took off toward the inner castle. The glass door was partially opened, and a thin curtain spilled out into the night, floating listlessly in the gentle breeze. Star poked her head in.
A rocking horse with bridled reins gilded in gold guarded the room. Dolls littered the floor, their hair fanning out to carpet the marble in waves of gold and amber. There a small, canopied bed occupied the far wall of the room, draped in pink veils. At the foot of the bed rested a round basket.
Star pushed the glass door open further, quietly taking a step into the room. She sensed movement at the corner of her eye. The basket shook and a familiar face peeked out. To Star’s surprise, the bunnyfly stared at her,
As the exhilaration from the triumph of battle welled inside her, she had to remind herself the beast was but one in perhaps a hundred, even a thousand. Although it felt like she’d conquered the world, it was a small victory at most. She still had to be cautious.
Holding the torch above her head, Star found her way back to the edge of the wall. Before she’d jumped, she had calculated the exact spot where the bunnyfly had been found in relation to the walls of Ravencliff. The southern side was her best bet at finding the breach.
Star walked along the wall, her gaze scanning the black rock for cracks in the facade, crumbling debris or any sign of an opening. To her chagrin, the wall was solid without as much as a chink in the ebony facade.
Once several feet down the incline toward the mountain, Star suspected the bunnyfly had miraculously flown over the fortress barricade. The terrain grew harder to cross and a scraggly patch of briars and shrubs forced her away from the wall. She almost continued onward but changed her mind, deciding a methodical and meticulous approach would yield better results.
Using her sword, Star cut down the overgrowth. Beneath the tangled mass was a fissure four feet tall and five feet wide. Star ran her fingers over the grooved edges on the wall of the passageway. This was not done by wind, rain or imperfections in the rock itself. These gashes were made by a human tool. Star’s first thought was a pick axe, but the rock was far too strong to crack by any metal implement she’d seen forged.
She paused, mulling over the serrations in the rock. Whoever made this passage had devices far stronger than she could imagine. Advanced tools meant human intelligence and power. Star had the sinking feeling she was in far over her head.
Cautiously, she ducked inside. The passageway slanted at a steep incline, carved from the mountain. Star climbed with her torch in hand. There was no way she would stumble through the darkness with no light. Her small stature made it easy to traverse winding turns in the passageway. It took only a few minutes to slip through to the end, where moonlight shone between cracks in the ceiling.
Star blew out her torch. She realized she stood under slates of limestone. Reaching her hands above her head, Star moved one of the slates and hefted herself out of the secret passageway, surfacing underneath large ferns.
Pushing the greenery away, she thought she emerged in a jungle from one of the stories her mother read to her at night as a child. Then, as she emerged from the ferns, she recognized her surroundings as none other than the private atrium where she’d delivered the bunnyfly. It must have slipped through a crack in the granite slabs as the princess studied, plunging down the tunnel and onto the moors.
There was a glass door at the far end of the atrium, opposite the side where she had entered with the guard. She knew one way led toward the front of the castle, meaning the opposite direction would take her to the inner chambers, where the royal family would be sound asleep.
Leaving her torch in the tunnel, Star took off toward the inner castle. The glass door was partially opened, and a thin curtain spilled out into the night, floating listlessly in the gentle breeze. Star poked her head in.
A rocking horse with bridled reins gilded in gold guarded the room. Dolls littered the floor, their hair fanning out to carpet the marble in waves of gold and amber. There a small, canopied bed occupied the far wall of the room, draped in pink veils. At the foot of the bed rested a round basket.
Star pushed the glass door open further, quietly taking a step into the room. She sensed movement at the corner of her eye. The basket shook and a familiar face peeked out. To Star’s surprise, the bunnyfly stared at her,
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