Page 3 of Heart of Dawn
Sweating profusely despite biting cold, I braced myself to spare my ear drums and my sanity.
Three.
Two.
One.
I charged, letting out a roar with the axe held high.
“Dawn! Dawn! Dawn! Dawn! Dawn!”
I leaped over a jagged root, then brought the axe down on the head. The blade cleaved through flesh and bone with the ease of a hot knife through butter.
Wow. This was one sharp axe.
Dawn’s screaming died, the two halves of the head falling aside like a freshly sliced apple. Pink blood and brain matter oozed across the snow, quickly turning to the black of the undying fae’s juices.
“By the stars,” I breathed, my shoulders hunching.
I drew in several deep breaths, my nerves a jumbled mess. Silence crept through the forest, only the gentle pattering of the falling snow making any sound. The cold made itself known again, pushing through my fearful sweat.
I plucked Wendy from my pocket, her plastic orange casing replaced with glittery golden glass. A gold bee slept on her tiny digital screen, a stream of z’s floating above her.
“Are you going to wake up?” I asked her.
Nope.
“Sleepy bee…” I whispered, stroking the smooth casing with my little finger. “Please wake up.”
A rustling above my head spiked my survival instincts.
Pixie balls!
I dropped Wendy back into my pocket. “Who’s there?”
No answer, no sign of anything this time despite the rustling.
“Answer me!” I bellowed, sick of the gnawing fear in my belly.
A figure darted between two bent trees, wielding an axe of his own.
Crap. Another undying fae. He was as gray-skinned and gaunt as the last one I’d faced. Painfully thin, his skin stretched over his skeleton and wearing only dirty brown rags. He appeared to be wreathed in sorrow for the lost bee queen, yet also full of hope for her return. That hope gave him and the other undying fae unnaturally long life.
“Who are you?” he demanded, the brittle strands of his brown hair clinging to his forehead.
“Can you point me in the direction of a fire?” I tried.
Worth asking, right?
The fae tilted his head to the side, those dark eyes too curious for my liking. “What are you doing here?”
Did I try spinning a lie, or try running for it? Yes, I could fight him, but my fingers were getting numb, begging for some heat.
“I saw something,” he said.
“What did you?—”
Before he could answer, his eyes turned pink, a chuckle passing his lips.
