Red Rider RIsing: Book 2 of the Red Rider Saga by D.A. Randall (best books to read for beginners .TXT) 📗

Father Vestille must have spent a good part of his day making this place into a home.

I swallowed. Could I ever again have a place to call home?

Yet Father Vestille did his best to provide one, without even knowing whether I would return.

I stepped back up the ramp to pull the top door shut, then got Crimson settled. Once he lay on the straw pile – much larger and fresher than last night

– and closed his eyes, I climbed up the ladder and knocked on the trap door. I heard Father Vestille’s muffled voice and some quick shuffling overhead.

271

I was growing so accustomed to this night life, the life of a nocturnal beast, that I had forgotten normal people still retired to their beds well before midnight.

“Helena?” Father Vestille called in a harsh whisper from above as he creaked across the floorboards.

I pushed the door up and climbed into the warm candlelight of his front room. He stood there in his nightshirt, holding the candle on its tray. His anxious eyes were bloodshot.

“I’m here,” I said. “Crimson’s settled for the night.” I stepped up into the room and eased the door shut. He deserved far more explanation of my activities, but I acted as though I had said all that was necessary. I couldn’t expect him to understand.

He accepted it, clearing his throat. “Do you

– Have you had anything to eat?”

My pride urged me to lie and say I didn’t need anything. But my more practical stomach growled.

“I’ll get you some bread,” Father Vestille said. “I still have some cheese and lamb from tonight’s supper. I hoped you might return.”

He shuffled away to his table. I followed slowly as he unwrapped the remains of bread from a cloth in a round basket, then unwrapped some cold lamb and hunks of cheese from another platter.

He looked at me, somewhat abashed. “I can light the fire again to heat this up.”

272

I shook my head. I didn’t want him to have to do anything more. Nor would it be wise to send up chimney smoke from his hovel after midnight, with the Lycanthru searching for me. I shuddered and clutched my shoulders. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

I grabbed the meat and tore off a chunk with my teeth. I had not eaten for hours and the excitement in the forest only made me more ravenous. I was well into my second bite when I noticed Father Vestille staring at me with concern.

I realized I had failed to give thanks again.

I stopped chewing in mid-stride and bowed my head to thank the Lord for the food. For this place.

For my life. Whatever might be left of it.

I opened my eyes to find him still staring.

Perhaps he was less worried about my prayers than for my half-starved condition.

“Can I get you anything else? Do you need to bathe again? I can wait out here, or outside if you like.”

I shook my head and chewed. I had to discuss tonight’s events with someone, and quickly. Even if it had to be Father Vestille. Before it was too late.

“Father Vestille,” I began, then finished chewing. “… Something happened tonight.”

He stood listening. Then he turned and pulled up a stool to sit before me. I sat in the chair by his table. It felt good to sit. To do something normal and safe. To imagine I could be safe again someday.

I swallowed and lowered my eyes. “I saw them. The Lycanthru. I saw them all.”

273

His voice rose in a panic as he gripped my shoulders. “Helena. Are you all right?”

I nodded. I didn’t shake him off. It felt good to be held, the closest thing to an embrace that I would experience for some time. My entire life had changed in a few days. In one terrifying night. I could never be the same person again. I could never again enjoy a feeling of safety or home or family.

“There were several men, wearing robes.

With images of wolves on them. They performed some sort of ritual. And