Free Raven Speak (9781442402492) by Diane Lee Wilson Page B

path hidden among the spray-darkened boulders, her tongue kept seeking out the swollen ridge inside her lip, a tender spot that still tasted of blood. She paused to check on Rune, and in brushing the windblown hair from her eyes, she accidentally bumped her nose. The unexpected sting brought a gasp.
    What was Jorgen’s condition, then? With a flash of heat she hoped he’d suffered more. She envisioned him awakening to debilitating pain—how would he explain it to the others?—and imagined him fingering the scratches she must have left on his face. That rekindled the memory of his greasy skin beneath her nails, and her stomach upended. Hastily she wiped her hands on the nearest boulder. Not enough. Scooping up some coarse earth, she scrubbed both hands until a raw, tingling sensation replaced the greasy one. There. Now if she could only so easily scrub herself free of the man.
    But things were going to change. She and Rune were off to find a whale. There would be enough food to bring everyone back to health. Jorgen would be forced to pack up his awful stories and slink away from her father’s empty seat. And the rest of them would manage to survive until both summer and the men returned.
    Assuming there
was
a whale, that is. A nagging doubt girdled her belly like a tightening rope. She was putting an awful lot of trust in a stranger, and a peculiar stranger at that.
    Just look. The old woman could have been one of her feathered companions, the way she bent forward at the hip, climbing in a stiff, birdlike walk. An occasional bobble brought her elbows up for balance, and the cloak trailing over them resembled wings, but she never used a hand to steady herself.
    The ravens, meanwhile, circled above, rising on the updrafts until they were only black dots against the pearly morning sky. There they initiated their own game. First one bird would fold its wings and plummet, spinning, rolling, and tumbling, until lifting itself out of the dive at the last moment with an exuberant call. Accepting the challenge, the other bird would then fold its wings and plummet, mimicking the same spinning, tumbling combination, but adding some unique flourish. The intricate dives were repeated again and again, and the ravens’ unfettered spirits lifted her heart. She took that as further sign that things were changing for the good.
    Around the next boulder the path shot steeply upward,hugging the cliff wall so closely as to be little more than a chalky band of sunlight. There wasn’t room for a horse, and just as that thought came to her she heard the sudden clatter of rocks and pebbles, a surprised grunt, and the sickening sound of scrambling hooves. She spun, her heart exploding.
    Rune had managed to stop his fall but he balanced precariously, one back leg wedged between two rocks below the path, the other folded at a high, awkward angle, grasping for solid ground. Gathering himself, he made a desperate lunge. More pebbles skidded down the embankment, but he remained captive. His anxious whinny tore through her.
    In an instant she was back to him, a hand on his sweating neck. Blood reddened the ankle of his trapped leg. “Whoa, whoa,” she soothed, forcing the fear from her voice while her mind raced. How was she going to pull him free? And even then, how was she going to get him turned around and safely down to the shore? The path was so dangerously narrow, the cliff way too steep. Glancing up, she met the woman’s impatient scowl.
    â€œHe can’t do it,” Asa called.
    That brought the one-eyed stranger picking her way back down the path. Tugging Asa aside with an unnatural strength, she forcibly seated her on a boulder. “Flap will help,” she said, and thrust out her arm. Immediately one of the ravens came spiraling through the air. A whoosh of cold swept Asa’s face as it landed. The big black bird neatly folded its wings before sidestepping to the woman’s shoulder and bobbing in