A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: SARAH J. MAAS
- Language: English
- Genre: Adult Fiction Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The forest had become a labyrinth of snow and ice.
I’d been monitoring the parameters of the thicket for an hour, and my
vantage point in the crook of a tree branch had turned useless. The gusting
wind blew thick flurries to sweep away my tracks, but buried along with
them any signs of potential quarry.
Hunger had brought me farther from home than I usually risked, but
winter was the hard time. The animals had pulled in, going deeper into the
woods than I could follow, leaving me to pick off stragglers one by one,
praying they’d last until spring.
They hadn’t.
I wiped my numb fingers over my eyes, brushing away the flakes
clinging to my lashes. Here there were no telltale trees stripped of bark to
mark the deer’s passing—they hadn’t yet moved on. They would remain
until the bark ran out, then travel north past the wolves’ territory and
perhaps into the faerie lands of Prythian—where no mortals would dare go,
not unless they had a death wish.
A shudder skittered down my spine at the thought, and I shoved it away,
focusing on my surroundings, on the task ahead. That was all I could do, all
I’d been able to do for years: focus on surviving the week, the day, the hour
ahead. And now, with the snow, I’d be lucky to spot anything—especially
from my position up in the tree, scarcely able to see fifteen feet ahead.
Stifling a groan as my stiff limbs protested at the movement, I unstrung my
bow before easing off the tree.
The icy snow crunched under my fraying boots, and I ground my teeth.
Low visibility, unnecessary noise—I was well on my way to yet another
fruitless hunt.
Only a few hours of daylight remained. If I didn’t leave soon, I’d have
to navigate my way home in the dark, and the warnings of the town hunters
still rang fresh in my mind: giant wolves were on the prowl, and in
numbers. Not to mention whispers of strange folk spotted in the area, tall
and eerie and deadly.
Anything but faeries, the hunters had beseeched our long-forgotten gods
—and I had secretly prayed alongside them. In the eight years we’d been
living in our village, two days’ journey from the immortal border of
Prythian, we’d been spared an attack—though traveling peddlers sometimes
brought stories of distant border towns left in splinters and bones and ashes.
These accounts, once rare enough to be dismissed by the village elders as
hearsay, had in recent months become commonplace whisperings on every
market day.
I had risked much in coming so far into the forest, but we’d finished our
last loaf of bread yesterday, and the remainder of our dried meat the day
before. Still, I would have rather spent another night with a hungry belly
than found myself satisfying the appetite of a wolf. Or a faerie.
Not that there was much of me to feast on. I’d turned gangly by this
time of the year, and could count a good number of my ribs.
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