The North Wind (THE FOUR WINDS #1) by Alexandria Warwick EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Alexandria Warwick
- Language: English
- Genre: fantasy romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 9.1 MB
- Price: Free
THE SKY FORETELLS A COMING tragedy.
It is the palest of grays, yet a red stain clots the eastern horizon—evidence of
the rising sun. The stain expands, sopping the clouds and dripping farther
westward. Huddled in the thicket of snow-laden trees, I watch the day waken
with fear running cracks through my heart. The sky is red, like bloodshed.
Like revenge.
I have been expecting such a sight for days now. It is as the stories claim: first
come the budding cones from the old cypress tree growing in the town square.
Three decades the tree has lain dormant, and the emergence of new blooms sent
the townsfolk into a frenzy, the women into hysterics, the men stoic with grimfaced defeat. The buds, then the bleeding dawn. At this point, there is little I can
do. Because if the sky is correct, Edgewood is expecting a visitor, and soon.
Encased in its white, icy skin, the land lies in muted silence, the snow soft,
fresh from the storms that blow in as frequently as the moon cycles. For now, I
will not think of what may come. My task lies here, in this uninhabited stretch
of wood, with the black trees and their rotting cores, and my stiff, gloved hand
clasped around my bow.
Peering around a moonlit trunk, I scan my surroundings. Three days prior, I
stumbled across a game trail, still fresh. The tracks led me here, fifteen miles
northwest of home, but I’ve yet to spot the elk.
“Where are you?” I whisper.
A harsh wind rattles the bare, finger-bone branches. Despite tugging my
patchwork coat tighter around my body, the invading cold manages to slip
between the openings. Desperation sent me deeper into the forest’s heart,
beyond that small pocket of civilization—north, where the River Les gleams,
where no one dares dwell.
Movement snags my eye. The animal limps into sight, alone, separate from
any herd. Its slow, laborious gait evidently caused by its twisted left foreleg. The
sight sickens me. It’s not the animal’s fault it suffers. That responsibility belongs
to the dark god who squats beyond the Shade.
Hardly daring to breathe, I slide an arrow from my quiver. One seamless pull,
a full draw, and my hand grazes the underside of my jaw, the string brushing the
tip of my nose as an additional reference point. The elk paws at the snow, seeking
something green, something that is like hope but that never will be.
But I am not alone.
A deep breath drags traces of the forest into my lungs: ice and wood and a
smell of burning. It is a warning, and it comes from the north.
My senses still. My ears strain for any unusual sound. Tension winds knots
through my limbs, yet I force my mind to calm, to return to what I know, and
what I know is this: the scent is faint. Enough distance separates me from the
darkwalker that I have time, but I’ll need to move quickly.
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