Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,46
arms. The trees fell away from her peripheral as Quinn’s gaze fixed on what was in front of her, an opening cloaked in black ivy. She reached out to swipe the ivy aside. It dropped away, falling to the forest floor to reveal a door. She turned the knob and stepped forward as it swung open.
The soles of her feet touched something soft and slippery. Small granules stuck to them as she took a slow step forward. Quinn glanced down, only then noticing her boots had been removed. She couldn’t remember taking them off. Then again, this wasn’t the real world—this was the world of dreams—of nightmares—and the laws here followed no man’s dictations. Not even hers.
The sand slid to the side with every step she took, but still Quinn strode forward, climbing the dune in front of her, leaving the forest behind. Hands out, Quinn latched onto rocks protruding up and out of the mound of sand and scaled upward.
Finally, there was a break in the silence—a sharp squawking. It was just over the top of the hill. Gritting her teeth, she put a bare foot on one of the jutting rocks and used it to push her body the last little bit it needed to reach the uppermost point. Quinn’s light head crested over the edge and her breath caught in her chest as the rest of this strange land came into view.
Miles and miles of sand drifted off in every direction—swept away in some places to reveal dried ground with spider web cracks that raced away from each other, spreading out like the black veins of the plague. The sight was as strange as it was devastating. There was no vegetation, no forest, no life.
That noise sounded again, closer than before. Quinn’s head turned until she caught sight of the only living thing in the vicinity. Pitch black wings fluttered as the bird attempted to take off, lifting several feet from the ground, only to come crashing back down with that terrified and frustrated scream of pain. Unsure of what exactly the creature was, Quinn clambered up and over the sand dune and slid down, narrowly avoiding the rocks peeking out from underneath the grainy sand.
She landed on the other side and slowly made her way over to where the bird flopped uselessly against the dry and cracked ground. As she neared, it began to flap its wings harder—terror widening its dark eyes as it attempted to flee. Fear, she sighed. It always came back to that. Any other time she might have turned around and left the animal to fend for itself since it didn’t want her help, but something kept her bound in the path she had taken. Her legs moved without permission.
A flash of color caught her off guard and as Quinn bent low over the trembling, outraged creature, she noticed a streak of silver in its feathers. A single strand of mercury among the sea of obsidian black. She reached out and brushed a finger over the feather, earning a shriek from the animal as it squirmed away.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Quinn snapped with irritation. The bird froze and regarded her with disbelieving, but intelligent eyes. Quinn blinked. “Can you understand me?”
The bird tilted its small head by way of answer. Quinn couldn’t determine if it had responded or if she imagined it.
Cupping her hands under the animal, Quinn nudged it into her palms and lifted it up to her chest. Trembling, it let out an undignified cry that she ignored as she searched the animal’s feathers and limbs for whatever kept it from flying.
When nothing could be found, Quinn huffed and put the bird back down. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she said.
Flapping its wings, the bird tried to take flight once again but couldn’t. One wing sat stiffly, hardly moving as if it were heavier than the other, and the bird fell in an awkward heap at her feet.
Hands on her hips, Quinn stared down with pursed lips. What is wrong with it? she wondered. Its wings were unbroken. Its legs were fine. When its head lifted, though, she noticed it tilt in one direction. Quinn squatted down, and it seemed less inclined to squawk indignantly this time. Instead it remained still as she lifted its wings and spanned them out, touching them with gentle probing fingers.
She focused on the silver-white feather—the pretty spot of color in the otherwise ink-colored down was warm, but the rest of the animal