Free The Light-Bearer's Daughter by O.R. Melling Page B

no time to wonder. The rain clouds were scudding over the hills and heading her way. The open summit offered no shelter. The air was already chill. Quickly she changed into jeans and sweater, replacing her sandals with socks and running shoes. She was glad she had brought her waterproof jacket with the hood, but soon wished she had packed the wet-pants as well. As always in the hills, the rain lashed sideways. Minutes after it arrived, her jeans were soaked and clinging to her legs. Things could only get worse.
    Missing the deer, Dana started down the western scarp of Knocknacloghoge in sight of Lough Dan. The descent through heather and moor grass grew trickier still as the ground got drenched. She kept sliding and slipping. A climbing stick would have helped. She promised herself to look for a strong branch the next time she passed a tree. Her stomach was rumbling, but she ignored it. She had to keep moving. Though it wouldn’t be dark for a good while yet, the afternoon was fading. The dread question of where she would spend the night loomed in her mind. The burden of the task began to oppress her—the drizzle and the mud and the dreariness of the hike. It wasn’t fair. How did they expect her to do it without any help? She started to sniffle, then got angry with herself. Suck it back! You’re the one who said you could do it!
    When she reached the bottom of the hill, she had to fight her way through another sea of bracken till she came to a small river. As she struggled across it, she skidded on the stones and fell to her knees. Now she was bruised and even wetter. Would it never stop raining? Before her lay a sodden field bristling with sedge. Beyond it was the rocky slope of Scarr Mountain. To her right lay the dark-blue waters of Lough Dan. She spotted a group on the trail nearest the lake, their colored jackets like bright birds in the rushes. All had lowered their heads against the rain and didn’t appear to see her. Nevertheless, she hunched down as she hurried away.
    By the time she had begun her climb up Scarr, Dana had to force herself to keep going. Placing one foot in front of the other, she counted her steps and stopped for breath after every ten. Though it had finally stopped raining, her feet were soaked, her legs aching, and her knapsack felt like a bag of bricks. The mountainside was moving shakily beneath her, and she thought she might faint. Plunking herself down in a patch of heather, she grabbed a handful of chocolates from her knapsack and crammed them into her mouth.
    Life’s shite, eat dessert first .
    She was chugging on the bottle of cola when something caught her eye. It was moving down the ridge on the far side of Lough Dan. For a moment she thought it was a deer, and her heart lifted. Then she went cold. What was it? She couldn’t see clearly at that distance, and the thing itself kept scuttling behind the rocks. Then she got a clear sighting. Human. With limbs and a head. She almost laughed. Things were bad enough, why was she scaring herself? Still, she kept watching it. Then came the moment when it emerged from a rock once again and she saw something else: a reddish body, oddly segmented, with too many legs.
    As the waves of terror washed over her, Dana scrabbled up the hill. Was it the thing from the waterfall? Or some other enemy? Had it seen her? Was it coming after her? Fear gave her new energy. Drove her onward. She could hardly breathe. Her lungs were heaving. Her panic made her careless. At one point she almost fell backward. Steadying herself, she stopped to look behind. There was nothing in sight.
    A moment of relief.
    Then she spied a flash of red near the spot where she had crossed the river. She almost cried out. It was following her scent, like a dog. It was hunting her .
    The last few feet to the peak were a blind dash of dread and hope. No longer caring about anything else, Dana prayed that someone would be at the top. A group of hill-walkers. A lone hiker. Anyone.