Willow Hills

Ch. 05: Don't Let Them Get You

With the gate behind me, I ran.

I didn't look back because I knew Maria wouldn't pass the gate and follow. She wasn't brave enough to leave and anger Death. Nobody was.

I thought she was supposed to be asleep? Quinn asked, her mental voice screaming. Or in some sort of trance?

I didn't answer, only ran. I couldn't do both at once. Little blades of grass tickled my arches. Rocks bit into the soles of my feet as I found the road. The wind blew my hair out in a mess behind me.

The crimson sun was beginning to rise behind the mountains. I didn't stop running. Reapers could be anywhere, prowling, waiting for the chance to maul my soft skin. Their teeth in my flesh would be like biting into butter, and I wasn't ready to become a warm meal in a hellhound's belly.

I don't see any Reapers, Quinn noted. But that doesn't mean we're in the clear. Did you see how angry Maria was?

I nodded. Agony spread through my chest and legs, consuming my entire body. It hurt. But it felt good, too. It felt good to feel for once in my existence—being stone meant nothing but cold and detachment.

Dirge flew with me, a sable friend in the skies. Flying seemed natural for him—how many times had he wished to soar?

Fall blotched the leaves covering the mountains in rustic shades of copper and blood. They were on fire in the rising sun; a landscape of flames. Something in the distance caught my eye.

A bald spot on a mountain, void of evergreen. Quinn noticed it, too. And for some reason unbeknownst to me, she didn't want me to think about it. Why doesn't she want me to think about it?

My moment of peace was obliterated when howling shattered the calm morning. Claws dug into the earth, fast approaching. I willed my new legs to push. They strained and burned as though they would melt into puddles of bony goop.

You've got to run, Gretta. The road leading to our house is close.

"I'm trying!" I screamed, finding the winding road to Quinn's dwelling. It wasn't far now; the road was desolate. Some part of me hoped a car would approach—maybe I could ask for help?

Keep going that way!

But it hurts! I responded.

Push through it!

It was easy to run on a flat surface, but the pain was almost too much to handle. The rough, pebbly terrain scraped and abused the soft bottoms of my new feet. They were hot like they were on fire. Was it normal for pain to be so intense?

The answer to that question would probably worry me.

Behind me, claws met the road, nails making a striking clink, clink, clink against the asphalt. I didn't turn to see how many there were. Instead, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other as fast as I could.

I couldn't outrun them, but the sun was almost up. In a few minutes, the slivers of light hiding behind the mountains would shoot across the valley, illuminating everything. The nightmare behind me would vanish.

I just had to keep going.

My breath came as a whooshing sound in my ears, nearly drowned out by my racing heartbeat. As I was about to make it to a rickety bridge, something jumped on me, hard and heavy—and it wasn't difficult to figure out what that something was.

Nails tore into me and I screamed. Bright, fiery agony ripped through my skin. I fell to the ground, scraping my elbows and legs. Blood bloomed across my gashes.

No, no, no! Quinn shrieked. Protect yourself!

Flipping over, I shielded my face with my arms. That did little as the beast sank its claws into me, ripping. More pain. More agony. I kicked. I flailed my arms and tried to shove the heavy weight off, but with knife-sharp fangs an inch away from my face, all seemed impossible.

Drool dripped onto my cheeks, wet and thick. The stench of decay hung heavy on its breath, stinging my lungs with each inhale. Dirge screeched, attacking the Reaper, the surrounding area filling with feathers like a snowstorm.

The necklace nearly flew off my neck from the force of a livid Quinn. Her ghostly form appeared in front of me, behind the Reaper. Her face was black with wrath.

I didn't have a moment to react, to tell her to run, to tell her to get out of here, before Quinn reared her leg and kicked the Reaper in the back of the head.

Crack!

With a high-pitched yelp, the beast recoiled. Within a second, it was back on top of me. This time, its face was lit up by the sun. Light glinted off its incisors and its patchy, sickly fur. It charred from the sunshine, falling to the side, matted flesh popping and sizzling.

The Reaper turned to dust, ashes lifting toward the sky and becoming nothing. Dirge landed in front of me, ruffling himself out.

I gasped, heart thumping with pandemonium.

"Gretta?" Quinn leaned over me. "Gretta, can you hear me?"

"I feel faint," I whispered, a dizzy wave coming over me. My arms and legs were heavy—the need to close my eyes was overpowering. The idea was appealing, too, as if when I closed my eyes, all the discomfort and worry would cease to exist.

This must be what falling asleep feels like.

Somewhere in my midsection, something lurched as if it were trying to force its way out. But there was nothing there. I retched, sweat blooming across my forehead.

"Stay with me, Gretta," she said through clamped teeth. She took me in her arms. "It drained us both pretty bad. Don't pass out on me."

"I'm not going to pass out," I assured her, but everything was hazier. Murkier. Like a dark fog had pulled me down into a place where I couldn't feel any pain.

Maybe I was passing out, maybe I was dying. Black spots filled my vision and I closed my eyes. Relief made it impossible for me to open them again, yet fear still prickled at the back of my mind.

I'm afraid to die.

Everything went dark.