THERON (Book I In The Ancients Series) [SAMPLE]

ONE.

Catalina sat on the wooden floor, mindlessly playing with her dolls. The fireplace crackled and popped in front of her, tinting her young cheeks a rosy pink. She might have been a little too warm in her fuzzy socks and flannel pajamas but she was reluctant to move away from the flames. The heat emanating from this spot held a promise of comfort and safety that lovingly embraced her and calmed her nerves.

Outside, a storm was brewing. Harsh winds and wicked snow were set to engulf their cabin. Being so secluded and deep in the high mountains would inevitably trap them inside for days.

Glancing out the window, she bit her bottom lip. Stupid weather! It's not that she hated the snow nor the cold per se, it was more the fact that the horrible white stuff blanketed her beautiful earth, hiding away her precious foliage and wildlife until It saw fit to slowly ease up Its torturous ways and disappear until the same time next year. It was a game Snow liked to play and no matter how vehemently Catalina refused to participate, Snow never listened.

It enjoyed her discomfort.

Standing up, she slowly made her way to the window to peer outside. The sight did not please her. Snow had sent down Its confetti in the form of big, fluffy white flakes, signaling Its welcome home party. Catalina frowned—what an arrogant, pompous devil Snow was to assume she missed It enough for such a celebration.

Jerkface.

Falling to the ground heavily, in a thick, white canvas, it had already hidden any trace of green on the ground below. "Daddy..." she whimpered, "it's snowing."

Catalina had never been afraid of the weather. At six years old, she was a brave little girl with a wild spirit. So much so, that she almost felt bad for her father—she had given him plenty of grief in her short span of life on this planet. But tonight, this storm made her small body tremble with anxiety and foreboding.

Something was coming.

Lucan Bakkas raised his eyes from his open book and smiled fondly at his daughter, "It is." Whether this was confirmation of the snow or the something, she didn't know and she didn't desire to ask, though she hoped it wasn't the latter.

Catalina's frown deepened, her brows furrowed in annoyance. Her doe-like brown eyes pleaded with him, "Make Snow stop." She no longer appreciated Its yearly play and no matter how often she voiced it, Snow never listened. Lina was always taught to listen to her father... maybe Snow would listen as well.

Lucan chuckled, amused by his little spitfire. Truth be told, he would give her the world if he could, but demanding Mother Nature halt her devious ways were not among the things he could even remotely provide Catalina. Closing his book and setting it on the end table beside his leather chair, he motioned for her by patting his lap, "Come here, Lina."

The tiny blonde huffed, begrudgingly stomping over to her father and crawling on his lap. He pulled her to his chest, giving her body a quick squeeze. "Do you remember what we talked about?" He asked softly. Lina's little pink lips pursed as she struggled to pull the memory from her consciousness. Lucan watched intently as his daughter's eyes glazed over, recalling their previous discussion and he knew, without a doubt, the moment she remembered as her dark brown eyes flickered to life, focusing on him and him alone. A shadow of a smile played upon the corner of her father's mouth, "And what did we say?" Giving a quick and determined nod of her head, Lina recited, "It was for the best, so Nature had no choice but to do it."

Lucan's heart felt warm and full as he patted her small thigh, "Good girl. It is not for us to question Mother Nature's will—"

"—Only to bask in her magnanimous gifts," Lina finished his sentence, her voice soft and quiet. The worst feeling for his wildflower was containment from the outside. Without the ground underneath her bare toes, she was sullen, lost, and a bit cranky. Her spirit could never be caged for she would surely wither and die like any living, breathing being would. She was like the wind, willful and stubborn, going any and every which way she pleased. He couldn't help but share in her misery, as he knew very well the pain of not being able to feel the sweet soil beneath him.