Witch Song (Witch Song #1)

Chapter 8

8. THE DAWN SONG

 For the next few days, the Dawn Song directed Senna northeast. She moved quickly, choosing roads far from towns and people. At some point, she seemed to pass an invisible barrier that turned back all the storms Perchance should have had—doubly dousing Urway and causing endless flood damage.

Everything Senna had was soaked through. And even when it wasn't raining, she felt damp and cold. A few days ago, she'd moved into a constant fog and that she liked even less than the rain. It darkened the world like a sodden blanket, smothering her while denying the warmth and comfort of the sun.

To keep her mind occupied, she practiced her scales, paying special attention to her range, tone and control. Bruke's warning bark brought her out of her miserable slump to sit up straight in the saddle. Lifting her rain-soaked hood, she squinted at his hazy form through the fog. "What, boy?"

He barked again. With a whine, he took off.

"Come!" She urged Knight to a faster walk. She stood up in her stirrups, straining to see through the fog. "Bruke, you silly kitty cat, come!" What if he didn't come back? He always came back. She felt a flash of heat course through her. She started sweating. "Bruke! Come!" She nudged Knight into a teeth-clattering trot. What if he left her? Like her father and her sister ... and her mother. The void inside her swelled until it threatened to swallow her whole.

She buried her heels into Knight's sides. He shot forward. The sudden motion threw her back. Desperately fumbling for the horn, she barely managed to pull herself upright. With every wrenching stride, Senna was jerked back and forth like a rag doll. Finally, she managed to gather a fistful of reins and pull Knight to a stop.

Without thought, she abandoned the saddle. But her foot caught in the stirrup. Off balance, she lurched forward. Her hands shot out to break her fall. Grit dug into her palms. The impact jarred her wrists. Afraid Knight would take off, dragging her to her death, she scrambled to a sitting position.

But he just sniffed her leg and looked at her with his liquid eyes. Senna got to her feet and finally managed to untangle her foot. Before Knight could wander off, she looped the reins over her arm. With a groan of frustration, she cradled her hands into her chest.

And then Bruke was there. Kneeling, she wrapped her arms around his neck. The sobs came. "Don't you ever run away from me again. When I say come, you come!"

Bruke whined and licked her face.

He was all wet and smelled funny. She pushed him back. She looked up at the saddle and spoke to Knight, "Thank you for taking care of me, but we are never going that fast again. Ever."

Senna dug dirt out of her skinned palms and brushed off her dress. The wind combed its fingers through her hair. She heard a rhythmic, scraping sound. She couldn't see anything through the detestable fog. Taking the reins, she led Knight forward.

The wind picked up, blowing hard enough to whip back her cloak. The sound grew louder. Suddenly, she stepped through the last of the fog. Then she caught sight of the ocean. "The sea," she said breathlessly. The black-green waters stretched so far she could decipher the gentle curve of the Earth. Bruke was already trotting down the slope to the water.

Carefully, she came closer. The rounded stones felt hard through her boots. Senna cautiously watched the water rushing toward her feet before retreating back in on itself. Bending down, she let the waves splash over her hand. By the Creators, it was cold! Tentatively, she brought her dripping fingers to her mouth. "Salty!" So the stories were true.

Shaking off the droplets, Senna stood. Night was coming on. She needed to find a place to camp and there wasn't much for Knight to eat here. She walked down the beach until she found a place where the sheer face retreated to form a little alcove. A few trees and some grass padded the rocky ground.