Prophecy's Promise (Prophecy of the Edges Book 1) by Lauren Amundson
Authors: Lauren Amundson
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kept telling him, but he kept pressing. Patiently, Arwan would explain how she had already come too soon and pushing things further out of the path wouldn’t help. What the path was, I didn’t know. All I knew was that it had something to do with Shezdon’s book and the secrets locked away in the ancient text.
At lunch and dinner, Arwan would curl up beside me, and I’d share some of my food with her and scratch her head. Once she brought us a rabbit that she had killed, and I made it into a soup.
“She's not a pet,” Altis said.
“No,” I agreed. “That she is not.” But still, I had to admit that I enjoyed her company. She made me feel safe. Like I had someone watching my back. I never expected to befriend a mountain lion, although Arwan was as much of a mountain lion as a volcano was an anthill.
“Will you teach me to read the book?” I whispered to her, scratching behind her ears.
“I cannot.” She conveyed sadness through our physic link. “I cannot counter the counter.”
“Counter?” I asked. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Arwan disappeared. For hours, I worried that she was gone for good, but she returned that night as if she’d never left. I did not press her for details again.
As we drew closer to my old town, memories began to trickle back to me, just as Nazarie had predicted. First, they all started as dreams. I could remember playing tag with my childhood friend, Euan. I could remember a little girl yelling at me, she must have been a friend. I could remember learning to ride a horse. I could remember arguing and fighting—my mother arguing and fighting with my father.
The first time I remembered what my mother looked like, I almost began to cry. She had my auburn hair and her eyes were green. And I remembered lavender. I remembered that she smelled like lavender when she scooped me up into her arms. Nothing was concrete, mostly vague images.
At first, I wondered if the memories were real. Maybe I’d smelled lavender on the path and my subconscious cobbled it together. Maybe I expected her to have my same hair color. But after a few more days, the memories became aggressive, overtaking me like a waking dream. I was either losing my mind or the memories were real. Or both. Flashes of my childhood would swim before my eyes, and then I’d be back to reality. Arwan told me whatever trauma held back my memories was being pushed aside by my proximity to the place where these memories were born. She told me that when I felt the men’s Mist in the forest, I had remembered how to do that. She did not know if I would remember more skills, or if they would all be events. I wondered what had made Nazarie so worried and if I would fill in gaps incorrectly as she had predicted.
I kept playing various predictions of my homecoming over and over in my mind, but I could barely remember details of the town. What would I say to my father? Would I even recognize him when I saw him? With it half a day's travel away, it was all I could think about. Arwan left us in the mid-morning while we were still a couple of hours away from the village. “My time is short. Be safe. We will meet again.”
“When?”
“When it’s time,” she responded in her vague manner.
I turned around, but she had vanished. I had gotten used to having someone to talk to on the journey. Altis had returned to his normal taciturn self.
“I think she’s gone,” I informed him. Altis shrugged.
Chapter 10
As we continued on, the road steadily grew wider and more traveled upon. We began to pass remote homesteads and farms. The fourth wagon that passed was stuffed like a roasted pig, loaded down with what appeared to be every valuable possession the people had. We stopped them.
“Ahoy, where are you going?” Altis waved them down. The wagon slowed to a halt.
“Don’t go any closer to The Edge. Turn around. Run away,” the man warned. He gripped the reins so tightly that his knuckles were white.
My horse
At lunch and dinner, Arwan would curl up beside me, and I’d share some of my food with her and scratch her head. Once she brought us a rabbit that she had killed, and I made it into a soup.
“She's not a pet,” Altis said.
“No,” I agreed. “That she is not.” But still, I had to admit that I enjoyed her company. She made me feel safe. Like I had someone watching my back. I never expected to befriend a mountain lion, although Arwan was as much of a mountain lion as a volcano was an anthill.
“Will you teach me to read the book?” I whispered to her, scratching behind her ears.
“I cannot.” She conveyed sadness through our physic link. “I cannot counter the counter.”
“Counter?” I asked. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Arwan disappeared. For hours, I worried that she was gone for good, but she returned that night as if she’d never left. I did not press her for details again.
As we drew closer to my old town, memories began to trickle back to me, just as Nazarie had predicted. First, they all started as dreams. I could remember playing tag with my childhood friend, Euan. I could remember a little girl yelling at me, she must have been a friend. I could remember learning to ride a horse. I could remember arguing and fighting—my mother arguing and fighting with my father.
The first time I remembered what my mother looked like, I almost began to cry. She had my auburn hair and her eyes were green. And I remembered lavender. I remembered that she smelled like lavender when she scooped me up into her arms. Nothing was concrete, mostly vague images.
At first, I wondered if the memories were real. Maybe I’d smelled lavender on the path and my subconscious cobbled it together. Maybe I expected her to have my same hair color. But after a few more days, the memories became aggressive, overtaking me like a waking dream. I was either losing my mind or the memories were real. Or both. Flashes of my childhood would swim before my eyes, and then I’d be back to reality. Arwan told me whatever trauma held back my memories was being pushed aside by my proximity to the place where these memories were born. She told me that when I felt the men’s Mist in the forest, I had remembered how to do that. She did not know if I would remember more skills, or if they would all be events. I wondered what had made Nazarie so worried and if I would fill in gaps incorrectly as she had predicted.
I kept playing various predictions of my homecoming over and over in my mind, but I could barely remember details of the town. What would I say to my father? Would I even recognize him when I saw him? With it half a day's travel away, it was all I could think about. Arwan left us in the mid-morning while we were still a couple of hours away from the village. “My time is short. Be safe. We will meet again.”
“When?”
“When it’s time,” she responded in her vague manner.
I turned around, but she had vanished. I had gotten used to having someone to talk to on the journey. Altis had returned to his normal taciturn self.
“I think she’s gone,” I informed him. Altis shrugged.
Chapter 10
As we continued on, the road steadily grew wider and more traveled upon. We began to pass remote homesteads and farms. The fourth wagon that passed was stuffed like a roasted pig, loaded down with what appeared to be every valuable possession the people had. We stopped them.
“Ahoy, where are you going?” Altis waved them down. The wagon slowed to a halt.
“Don’t go any closer to The Edge. Turn around. Run away,” the man warned. He gripped the reins so tightly that his knuckles were white.
My horse
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