Free The PriZin of Zin by Loretta Sinclair Page B

against his shoulders. Hunter felt as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Blinking hard through the tears, his heart stirred again. String still visible through the mask, Hunter felt the Maker’s touch deep inside.
    His focus narrowed through the eyes of the deer mask. His neck muscles rippled from the weight of the skull, the antlers keeping his head steady and straight. Neck taught and head steady, Hunter’s focus narrowed to what the deer would have seen— to see what evil sees. He now saw only one set of glowing eyes in front of him. Kneeling down to grab a stone, Hunter, perched on one knee, reared back and threw, hitting the zombie right between the eyes with a single throw. It fell to the ground in front of him. A haunting wail emerged from the brush to his right. Hunter grabbed another stone from the pile at his feet. Turning his head, he focused his gaze on the one single threat. Lunging from the brush at him, Hunter reared back and threw again. A second shadowless target hit the ground.
    Again and again, as the scuffling and wailing zombies in the brush attacked, Hunter zeroed in on them one by one, picking them off as though they were bottles on a fence. Slowly the rustling lessened. Hunter looked around the forest. From his vantage point in the cave, he could see nothing. Still, his heart stirred uneasily. He sensed a trap.
    Removing the deer head, he scanned the brush. He saw nothing, but his heart told him he was not finished. Hunter looked at his feet. The rocks were gone. Mikey still hid as far from the fray as he could. Wedged into a ball in the corner of the rock formation, he didn’t even look Hunter’s direction any longer. He merely cowered.
    Hunter looked back to the dense brush, eyes centering between two large redwood trees directly in front of him. Still seeing nothing, he sensed that evil was still there, lurking, waiting for a chance to pounce.
    Slowly, the branches of the trees began to rustle, but not low to the ground. The branches moving were higher up on the tree, taller than Hunter. The eyes were the first things he saw. Glowing red orbs, they were the size of the dream catchers that had hung over them at the campfire. Antlers the size of small trees came into view, mounted on a head bigger than his bike back home. Jolts of electricity sparked in the air and arced between the points above the giant head. Snarling, dripping teeth the size of Hunter’s arm were bared as the creature inched its way closer and closer, making no attempt to hide. Hunter could feel the weight of its stare bearing down on him. The sense of evil permeated the entire cave and forest.
    Hunter’s heart stirred yet again. He could still feel the Maker. He did not need to look for the silvery string, for somehow he knew it was still there. Instinct told him to reach into his pocket. From there, he pulled out his gift, the quartz rock that was given to him, and the tiny yellow seed. Holding the seed in his hand, it jumped as his heart did.
    This is all you will need. Believe just this much, and you can move mountains .
    Hunter tightened his grip on the rock and focused on the enormous presence of evil lurking right before him. Rearing back, he felt the rock tingling in his hand. The closer the giant source of evil came, the hotter the rock in his fist became. The growling of the creature corresponded to the burning of the quartz. Narrowing his focus, eyes dead-center, hand steady, heart confident, Hunter drew back and hurled the rock forward with every ounce of his strength.
    Instead of him releasing the rock, the rock released him. Hunter was sucked back through the mist and forest. In the blink of an eye, he was seated back at the campfire. The fire dancers whooped and hollered, Bigfeet cheering, Hunter was back among friends.  Abornazine still stood in the center of the circle, head high with the unicorn horn pointing upwards, arms raised, fingers no longer burning, praising the Maker for