Free Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) by Kristen Taber Page A

voice sang as the breeze gusted stronger, swirling
leaves in a vortex around her. “They are your friends, but you’d best beware.
The forest path you travel along will soon bring you to a deadly wrong. Find
the way the water leads you, and you will find the man who sees you.”
    The
words came from every direction. Meaghan’s heart raced in her chest and she
followed its lead, speeding after Nick through the forest. Fire scorched her lungs
and panic froze her mind.
    She
had almost caught up with him when pain ripped through her, a bolt of
electricity that sent her screaming to the ground.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    H ER PALMS hit the ground first in time to prevent her forehead from landing on a rock in
the path. She heard thrashing close by and somewhere in the distance, footsteps
running toward her. Pain shot through her again as something yanked on her
ankle. She screamed and tried to turn over, but her legs refused to budge.
Pressing up on her forearms, she felt something hit her on the back and fell to
the ground. She struggled against the pressure, wiggling and flailing to get
loose, but her attacker’s grip tightened. The tightness slid up her legs,
pinning down her waist before latching onto her wrists.
    She
yanked them forward so she could see her attacker and then caught her breath in
disbelief. A vine writhed, thickening along her arms. It crawled over the
ground toward her head, slithered up her shoulders onto her neck, and
constricted. She opened her mouth to cry for help, but no noise escaped.
Blackness closed her vision into a narrow tunnel. She dug her nails into the
vines on her neck, tearing at them with the last of her strength, and then
dropped her hands, surprised when the vines went limp.
    Air
rushed back into her lungs, sweet and powerful. She held it. Her eyes cleared
and the pressure eased from her body. She turned her head in time to see the
vine slither into the underbrush, trailing a thick liquid that looked like dark
blood. It coiled into a pile and stilled.
    She
saw the glint of a silver knife in someone’s hand. It disappeared, then she
felt arms slide underneath her body. Too weak to struggle, she closed her eyes
and succumbed to them as they lifted her. When she felt a wool sweater brush
against her cheek, she opened her eyes again, relief flooding through her when
Nick’s face filled her vision.
    “You
have the worst luck,” he muttered. He sat her on a stump so he could examine
her wounds. His cursory review seemed to miss nothing. His fingertips coasted
over the scrapes on her palms, then parted a tear in her sleeve to reveal a
long cut from her elbow to mid-way down her forearm. Red welts along her skin
had already begun fading, but his fingers tested them anyway, and she knew they
would turn into bruises by tomorrow. He ran his hands down her legs to look for
breaks, stopping at her ankle when she released a sharp hiss of air.
    He
moved her ankle back and forth and side to side. “Does this hurt?”
    “Yes,”
she groaned. He pushed harder and she pitched forward from the pain. “Don’t,
please.”
    He
let go. Lifting her pant leg, he pulled down her sock to view the skin puffing
over the edge of her sneaker. He removed the sneaker, then resumed his light
prodding.
    “Does
this hurt much?” he asked. She shook her head and he sat back on his heels.
“The color isn’t changing. That’s good news, though I think it’s sprained. I’ll
bandage it for now and we’ll know more by tomorrow morning.” He removed the
backpack from his shoulders, pulling open the zippers before glancing at her
again and frowning. “You’re not wearing your mother’s necklace,” he said. “Do
you have it?”
    Panic
swelled a lump in Meaghan’s throat. She reached for her neck, searching for the
amulet with frantic fingers. When she felt its thin chain and realized it had
flipped around to her back, she sighed in relief. “It’s here,” she said,
tugging it forward. “It’s