The Ashen Wrath (Watty's SHORTLIST recipient 2018) CHAPTERED VERSION

*29

The rising sun brought more toil. My thoughts kept drifting to Daun as I separated chaff from the Rye. The hours seemed to drag no matter how fast I worked. Finally, the Meal Trill sounded in the evening. The airdrone's assessment went smoothly—I had enough nervous energy to have cleared a triple quota.

Granddad placed beans and bread on the table with a grunt. Clearly, he needed most of each day to recover from his demanding factory shift. He retired to his partition as soon as our meal was over. I watched the skies impatiently until the drones lifted away, then hurried once again to the edge of the village.

Halfway through the prairie, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standup. The ground beneath my feet was rumbling. Something heavy was dragging through the tall grass. I stopped running and crouched out of sight, praying the thing wasn't drawing closer. After mustering some confidence, I peered over the tops of the green blades into the distance. Black fins were cresting above the grass—dozens of them. There was no way to tell what the fins were attached to, but whatever it was slithered through the darkness at a brisk pace. As soon as the fins disappeared and the rumbling stopped, I stood up and sprinted toward the hills.

I climbed the rocks twice as fast as I had the night before. Once reaching the top of the cliff, I spun around and looked across the plain. The weak light reflecting off the moon revealed nothing. Something glanced my shoulder and I jumped nearly a foot into the air.