offensive while he was still thrown off by her attack. Lowering her shoulder, she rammed it into his ribcage, pushing him toward the side. This time the shout that escaped him was one of pure panic as he was knocked off balance by her shove. His arms pin wheeled, his eyes bugged out of his head as he scrambled to maintain his balance on the slippery pathway, but gravity hated to be denied.
His hands scrambled at her arms, tearing at the cloak. She barely heard the fabric rip over the howling wind and the man’s frightened cries. Blood spilled from the scratches he tore across her flesh and spilled onto the snow beneath their feet. Sympathy and guilt battered at her as she fought, but she couldn’t back down. He’d kill her if she did.
Throwing herself backward, she lifted her foot and slammed it into his stomach. The final, brutal thrust was enough to knock his grip on her arms free. His arms spun faster as he teetered precariously on the edge of the pathway. Finally, after what had seemed like an hour but was only seconds, he tumbled from view. He spiraled away like the fresh snow beginning to drift over her. The last of his screams were torn away by the whipping wind and unforgiving mountains below.
Tempest stood, shaking as she tried to calm herself and ease the adrenaline kicking through her body like a runaway, bucking horse. She took a cautious step toward the edge of the ledge and peered over. Two hundred feet below her, sprawled on the rocks, lay the man she’d shoved over the side. The red of his blood was vibrant and ghastly against the pristine snow surrounding him. She didn’t know if he was still alive, he most likely was, but she wasn’t going to climb down there and find out.
Stepping away from the edge, she fought against the tears burning her eyes as she hurried down the path toward the next cave. He would have done far worse to her, she reminded herself, as she slipped into the cool recesses of the dark cavern. She trembled at the notion of that man touching her or kissing her, but she still couldn’t rid herself of the inward quaking rattling her bones. It had been her second fight and she’d hurt someone far worse than she’d ever planned to do in her life.
Get it together, she told herself. No, she’d never planned to injure someone as badly as she just had, but she hadn’t chosen this situation. It had been forced on her. She may have to do even worse before her journey was over. She wouldn’t like it, but she would do what had to be done in order to save the children.
Fifty feet into the cave, she dug out another rag and tied it to the end of the torch. There would never be any turning back, she realized as she lit the rag and made her way through the cave.
***
Tempest huddled deeper within her heavy, black wool cloak, burying herself inside the thick material the best she could as she fought against the wind trying to tear her hood off her head. Before exiting the final cave, she had slipped it on beneath the white cloak. She’d only kept the white cloak on in order to help her blend in with the world around her. The bottoms of the two cloaks beat against her shins and knees when she lifted her feet from the snow.
She’d lost sensation in her nose and cheeks; she wasn’t sure if she had feet anymore as she sank to the middle of her shins in the snow. Her knee-high boots kept the snow from slipping inside them, but she couldn’t escape the cold of the snow pressing against the outside of the fur-lined boots.
She’d escaped from the caves sometime yesterday, she believed, to discover the snow that had been spiraling down when she’d left the orphanage had turned into a full-fledged blizzard. If she hadn’t encountered the man on the cliff, she would have stayed within the cave and waited out the storm, but she’d been unwilling to take the chance they would find her if she did.
She’d lost track of the day and time in the wind and snow relentlessly beating against her.
His hands scrambled at her arms, tearing at the cloak. She barely heard the fabric rip over the howling wind and the man’s frightened cries. Blood spilled from the scratches he tore across her flesh and spilled onto the snow beneath their feet. Sympathy and guilt battered at her as she fought, but she couldn’t back down. He’d kill her if she did.
Throwing herself backward, she lifted her foot and slammed it into his stomach. The final, brutal thrust was enough to knock his grip on her arms free. His arms spun faster as he teetered precariously on the edge of the pathway. Finally, after what had seemed like an hour but was only seconds, he tumbled from view. He spiraled away like the fresh snow beginning to drift over her. The last of his screams were torn away by the whipping wind and unforgiving mountains below.
Tempest stood, shaking as she tried to calm herself and ease the adrenaline kicking through her body like a runaway, bucking horse. She took a cautious step toward the edge of the ledge and peered over. Two hundred feet below her, sprawled on the rocks, lay the man she’d shoved over the side. The red of his blood was vibrant and ghastly against the pristine snow surrounding him. She didn’t know if he was still alive, he most likely was, but she wasn’t going to climb down there and find out.
Stepping away from the edge, she fought against the tears burning her eyes as she hurried down the path toward the next cave. He would have done far worse to her, she reminded herself, as she slipped into the cool recesses of the dark cavern. She trembled at the notion of that man touching her or kissing her, but she still couldn’t rid herself of the inward quaking rattling her bones. It had been her second fight and she’d hurt someone far worse than she’d ever planned to do in her life.
Get it together, she told herself. No, she’d never planned to injure someone as badly as she just had, but she hadn’t chosen this situation. It had been forced on her. She may have to do even worse before her journey was over. She wouldn’t like it, but she would do what had to be done in order to save the children.
Fifty feet into the cave, she dug out another rag and tied it to the end of the torch. There would never be any turning back, she realized as she lit the rag and made her way through the cave.
***
Tempest huddled deeper within her heavy, black wool cloak, burying herself inside the thick material the best she could as she fought against the wind trying to tear her hood off her head. Before exiting the final cave, she had slipped it on beneath the white cloak. She’d only kept the white cloak on in order to help her blend in with the world around her. The bottoms of the two cloaks beat against her shins and knees when she lifted her feet from the snow.
She’d lost sensation in her nose and cheeks; she wasn’t sure if she had feet anymore as she sank to the middle of her shins in the snow. Her knee-high boots kept the snow from slipping inside them, but she couldn’t escape the cold of the snow pressing against the outside of the fur-lined boots.
She’d escaped from the caves sometime yesterday, she believed, to discover the snow that had been spiraling down when she’d left the orphanage had turned into a full-fledged blizzard. If she hadn’t encountered the man on the cliff, she would have stayed within the cave and waited out the storm, but she’d been unwilling to take the chance they would find her if she did.
She’d lost track of the day and time in the wind and snow relentlessly beating against her.
Similar Books
