Chapter 1 #2
I push all thoughts from my mind, losing myself to the routine movements as I dig my fingertips into the edges of stone, hard, and cold, and yet somehow buzzing with energy.
I push up from my perch on a small protrusion and pause to run my fingertips over the wood of an ancient root. It’s worn smooth as the stone it has broken through, strong and timeless. My gaze wanders up to the deep green boughs overhead.
The trees shade the top of the canyon, only revealing small slivers of the gray sky overhead.
What had been a breeze at the bottom of the canyon picks up to a forceful wind as I throw a leg over the lip and roll to my back.
I waste no time pulling the climbing shoes from my feet, letting out a delighted sigh.
“Ah, that’s better,” I mumble as I sink my sore feet into the damp soil.
Once I’m free of my tether and have secured my rope to a nearby branch, it’s time to start hunting.
Wood is a rare material in the caves. For obvious reasons: trees don’t grow underground, and humans don’t go up top.
But just because it’s hard to come by doesn’t mean it isn’t sought after.
Quite the opposite, actually. The rich are willing to pay a hefty price for trinkets made of the soft material.
There is something about the warmth of wood compared to the cold stone walls that is undeniably lavish.
How much I can sneak back into the city is limited. But it’s been enough to take care of Ma and me since Da—
“There! That’s perfect.” I pick my way over to a felled branch.
It’s as thick as my calf and as tall as I am.
All I have to do is break it up and pack it away.
Then I’ll find a suitable place for Dom’s plants and enjoy the rest of the afternoon lounging in the fresh air before heading back down below.
The wind shifts, sending a shiver down my spine with the rising gale. I shake my head. On second thought, better pack it up and get home. I didn’t like the look of the clouds, now lined in black and churning ever darker.
The serrated blade of my multi-tool bites into the wood as I saw it back and forth.
Powdered bits of wood build up on my hands as I work.
It doesn’t take long to break it down and pack it away in my bag, not like in the early days when it would take me a sweat-filled afternoon to prepare the branches.
I move on through the woods until I come to a soft slope leading down to the river.
“Eastern-facing bank, plenty of sunlight, plenty of water.” I repeat Dom’s instructions. Deciding this is the perfect place for his plants, I dig small holes, pressing the seedlings into the damp earth. I stand to survey my work, brushing the dirt from my palms against my cargo pants.
A hot gust of wind blows the blonde tendrils of hair that have broken free from my braid across my face. My heart stops, gaze drifting to the side, followed by the slow turn of my head.
Deep orange orbs slit through with onyx vertical pupils stare back at me. My breath catches. Fear freezes me in place. Those eyes, the size of my head, continue their unblinking stare. My pulse thunders, as if the treacherous organ is summoning the beast to dinner.
Eight meters tall and covered in red plating, the color of blood, this is the creature of nightmares.
It snorts. Another hot gust of wind washes over me.
This time I don’t hesitate. My taught muscles spring into action, propelling me toward the canyon.
The creature lets out a rumbling roar, and the ground shakes beneath me as the monster charges.
I can feel it closing in. But I’m nearly to the opening—
Pain radiates across my ribs, followed by a loud crack that rings in my ears.
But there’s no time to assess my wounds.
I spring to my feet. The creature swipes its head at me once again.
This time I duck. Not quite fast enough.
With a sweep of its head, the creature snags my pack on a tooth the length of my forearm and jerks up.
Air rushes past me as the ground turns to sky. I twist and turn, suspended from the straps of my pack like a rag doll. I kick my feet, trying to break the strap, but the material is reinforced with spider silk.
My head spins as I’m tossed from side to side.
Finally, I manage to wiggle one of my arms free.
But my other shoulder is tangled in the strap and groans under the strain.
The awkward angle threatens to snap my tendons, and just when I am certain my shoulder is about to be torn from its socket, I finally break free.
My victory is short-lived as the ground rushes up to meet me.
“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” I wheeze. I’m half convinced that the force of my fall has liquefied my lungs. “Nope,” I decide as I take a very painful breath. “That’s just bruised.”
An ear-splitting screech pulls me back to the present and the hell monster trying to eat me. I barely roll out of the way as the beast smashes a clawed foot the same diameter as the ancient trees into the dirt where I had been just moments before.
I stagger to my feet. Doubled over, I prod gingerly at my tender ribs as I study the creature that now stands between me and the safety of The Below.
I cock my head to the side, and the creature does the same. Are those fiery eyes studying me right back?
I raise my palms placatingly. “Come on, boy—”
Its nostrils flare as it flicks its tail in annoyance.
“Girl?” I correct, but the beast lunges forward, spitting a ball of white-hot energy at me.
I dive to the side, tuck, roll and then I sprint straight for the creature.
I have to get to The Below or I am cooked!
Just as I’m about to make impact with the creature, I fall to my side, sliding under its belly, and straight over the cliff edge.
I send out a silent prayer that I was right about my calculations and that my rope is waiting for me.
I throw out my hands, grasping at air, then rock, then…
my hands burn as they slide along the rope.
A loud pop tears through my shoulder, sending fire racing through every nerve ending, radiating through the joint into my spine.
Tears of pain blur the scene before me. I blink hard to dismiss them. Then fumble for the multi-tool in my pocket. I have to cut the line and fuse in before my grip gives out. My movements are jerky and hurried as I saw the line just above a friction anchor.
Pebbles rain down on my head and momentarily blind me as a hot gust of breath tickles the hairs on my neck.
The line snaps. I hold the length tight by the anchor, yanking the free end until I have enough slack to fuse it to my harness.
I let out a shaky breath, loosening my grip on the line, and sink back in my harness. When I tip my head back, those angry orange orbs are staring at me through the slot overhead.
My heart stops.
“Come on, girl,” I whisper. “If you cook me now, you won’t get a meal out of it. Why don’t we just call it a draw?”
The creature stills, then blinks, and I swear she’s considering it.
“You understand me, don’t you?”
The creature stomps an impatient foot that sends tremors through the rock, then she throws her head back and catches a carrion bird nearly as big as I am in her jaws.
A sickening squelch and the crunch of bones follow.
She munches down her meal, then cocks her head to the side and glares at me one last time before launching into the air, disappearing into the steel curtain of clouds.
I sit stunned in my harness longer than I’d like to admit, then let out a long breath with one reverent word.
“Dragons.”