Free Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) by Hannah Sullivan Page B

our steady footsteps. Flowers of all colors peek out from the tall grasses, bloom from the bushes, and drip from the trees, making my eyes water and my nose run. I keep sniffing and dripping and wiping and sneezing until Jamie, exasperated blurts out, “Sheesh, Liv. Didn’t you take my medicine?”
    And thus we have occasion to stop and use a satchel for the first real time. It works, and everyone can go back to listening to nature in its purity. I ignore it. I mean, I keep alert enough so if we were approached by anything other than what we’d expect on a mountain, I’d be ready to take it down. But I’m looking inwardly, already trying to open my mind and accept the mission in front of me. If she were here, Callie would be proud. It’s a two hour hike; lots of time for reflection.
    As we climb, the air grows cooler and a few random birds squawk out their calls, which echo around us. When we get close to the summit, Thunder stops and dips his head. I can’t help myself; I throw my arms up around his neck, burying my face into his silky mane. I hear him speak inside my head.
    It is all right, Child. We shall enter at the same time, with all of you holding onto me. We shall safely pass, and get you to where you need to be.
    Fine. Breathe, relax. Just a fun camping trip with the boys.
    Whatever.
    The fog comes from nowhere and swirls around us and I’m lost. Did anyone else hear about the holding onto him part? Had he only been speaking to me? As Thunder, Gunther is, well … horsey , and isn’t one to talk much. I’ve heard him do it a handful of times, the whole speaking into my head thing, but I don’t know how it works in a group situation. That is my last coherent thought before I burst into a thousand shards of oblivion.
    I try to hold on to the thought of I , of Me . But, my brain is fractured and can’t hold on to anything. Finally, I feel something unyielding and warm near the center of my fragments, and I pull solidity from that. When I am pieced together enough to see blurred forms, I feel a searing pain and another dissolving, like part of my essence has somewhere else to be.
    “No.” I say to myself. “No. Here! This is where I am.”
    And I open my eyes to a pair of boots and solid ground. I am on all fours and can’t even turn my head before I heave the contents of my stomach onto the sturdy set of footgear before me.
    The shoes jump back. “Really?! Really, Livs? Can you honestly not get that gunk anywhere but on me?” But Sam’s voice is laced with concern, and I feel his hand soothe over my hair, which is loose around my face. I heave again, but this time I can turn away in time. My eyes are streaming, and my arms shake.
    “Here, let me help you get her up.” Ethan’s voice, steady and firm, sounds closer to my ear. He reaches from behind, hooking his arms underneath mine. With a gentle tug, he pulls me to standing, keeping his arms around me until he can tell I won’t keel over. I can’t tell if my legs are wobbly from the deconstruction, the vomiting, or the close proximity of the boy. Gads, I’m a wreck. In silence, Jamie hands me a wet cloth to wipe my face and hands. When I feel somewhat presentable, I dare to peek at the faces in the circle, which has formed around me. Every pair of eyes reflects one common emotion: shock.
    “What?” I squeak and clear my throat. “What? I got nauseous. I am so sorry, Sam; I didn’t mean to. That was totally gross and ….” My voice trails away. “What?’ I ask again because I know something’s going on. Mentally, I’m counting heads. We’re all here. I look plaintively at Thunder, who whinnies and stomps his front hooves, kicking up clouds of dust. I sneeze. Is he mad at me? I feel his mind against my own, like he’s performing a mental scan, and he tosses his massive head.
    You were almost Riven, Child .
    “Riven?” That’s a new one. Never even heard of it, but it sounds kind of pretty.
    When the soul tries to split from the