The Attic (Completed)

Chapter 13

A presence moved through the bushes in Lily's peripheral and ice water flooded her veins.

She clutched the bird tighter and held her breath, not daring to move.

A sudden, deep-throated cackle sounded to her right and something snorted to her left. Then all went silent.

Her only choice was to go forward, in the direction she'd come. She looked up through the leaves and branches to the sky. The moon was gone, snuffed out by pewter clouds. She willed one leg forward and then another—fully expecting to be pounced on by a bear or wolf.

Nothing happened.

The darkness was disorienting. Was she even walking in the right direction? The crunching of her footsteps echoed all around her, and the bird's heart beat calmly within her arms, out of sync with her own racing one.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had she wandered so deep into the forest? She should never have opened that bird cage in the first place.

What had growled and cackled, and why had they stopped? Was she surrounded by a pack of drooling, camouflaged wolves waiting for the right moment to attack?

Something furry brushed her leg and she lurched forward in full speed panic. The bird screeched and bit her finger. She let go and its silky feathers flapped against her face as it took off into the trees above. Hands outstretched, chin tucked, she tore through bushes and tree boughs, cheeks and limbs burning with pain as branches whipped at her body. She didn't dare slow down.

All at once a deafening chorus of whoops and howls surrounded the forest around her and dozens of glowing eyes blinked at her in the murkiness ahead. She froze like a frightened rabbit and held back a scream as she pivoted in place.

White noise filled her ears and it took a moment to register that the glowing eyes had vanished and the forest had fallen silent. Her breathing was choked and raspy, heart slamming against her ribs. Her skin grew cold and she hugged her arms around her body. It was as though she'd suddenly stepped out into a bitter winter night.

Goosebumps pricked across her flesh like ripples of water and she trembled, lowering herself to the ground, dead leaves crackling beneath her. Her only plan now was to huddle on the forest floor indefinitely; hoping that whatever animal was out there would leave her alone.

A hand clamped down around her wrist: hard and thick and calloused. It jerked her to her feet and slammed her up against a furrowed tree trunk as another hand pressed hard against her jugular. She blinked rapidly, struggling to breathe—unable to make out the face of her attacker.

"What is your relation to Auguste?" a horrible voice hissed, the fingers around her neck releasing slightly.

"I'm his granddaughter," she choked out the words.

"Who is your mother?"

"She's—dead."

"Who was she?"

"Let me go—" she garbled, straining to breathe as the hand pressed into her throat.

"Answer me," he screamed, throwing her to the ground.

She landed hard, smacking her forehead against the root of a tree. Pain streaked through her skull like a lightning bolt.

Not a second later, her attacker was upon her, pressing his weight into her back—his scruffy cheek against her own. He let out a long exhale; breath like a dead rat. She choked on a flow of nausea and tried to claw out his eyes, but he grabbed both wrists and pressed her fisted hands into the ground; her knuckles crunching into a rock. She cried out in pain.