Of Scars and Secrets (Time Walkers Tales Book 2)

PROLOGUE

Virginia, 1656

He did not have much time. A whisper of breeze hit his skin, rippling up his spine and raising the fine hairs on his arms. He could see the glimmer of sunrise starting to breach the horizon over the swell of the hill in the distance, and he knew it would not be long before the glory of daylight betrayed him.

He kneeled beside the freshly disrupted ground, taking care to place his weight to the side rather than atop the spot where the body lay. It was a simple grave, marked only with dried flowers, and thankfully those who grieved had not cared to look too closely at the site. The body was buried shallow, laid in the earth by his own hand only a few hours past; it took only a half-dozen fistfuls of dirt before he felt the smooth features of the dead man’s face. Gently, he brushed the dust from the eyes, the nose, and finally, the outline of the man’s mouth. The skin was cold, grey, and taut to the touch. He swallowed back a surge of bile when the scent hit his nostrils; yes, the man smelled dead. He smelled very much dead.

Nevertheless, he had made a bargain with the dead man, and it was a vow he meant to keep. He sat back on his haunches and pulled a rigid piece of dried canebrake grass from the smooth leather satchel at his waist. He raised it to his eyes, squinting one lid shut to narrow his gaze and peer through it, and when satisfied that it was clear, he placed it to his lips and blew until the vibration from his breath made a soft humming sound. Yes, one might breathe through such a thing, if need be.

A sigh escaped him as he stared down at the lifeless face. In his lifetime, he would never know how it ended, or what the result of his promise kept might bear. It was the way of their kind, and he accepted that fate.

He pressed the reed into the space between the dead man’s lips and then smoothed a layer of dirt back over the face to secure it. When he was finished, only a thumb’s width section of reed protruded from the ground. He was told it would be enough.

Rising slowly to his feet, he faced the horizon and made his way to the winding path away from the burial mound down to the meadow below.

His debt was paid; he would think upon it no more. And he would answer truthfully to those he loved, if such a question was ever posed of him, that the man was laid to eternal rest upon that hill.