Page 38 of A Land So Wide
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They came outof the trees in the north.
From the clearing, Greer observed, watching the darkness follow the same trail they’d just taken. Though the shadowy mass was thick and absolute, there was a strange undulation within it, the individual movements of thousands, like a murmuration of starlings.
Starlings!she thought, mind racing.
But they weren’t birds, Greer noted, catching none of the chirps and calls that would be expected with such a swarm. She closed her eyes, listening; it was unlike anything she’d ever heard before. There was a soft swish of wings cutting through the air, flapping and fluttering, but this was oddly muffled, multiplied too many times.
“Whatisthat?” Lotte Morag dared to ask, horror and wonder hitching in her voice.
No one responded. There were no answers. Only dumbstruck awe and rising dread.
The flapping of wings grew louder. How many things could fly so close together, in one huddled mass? It was like a wall of darkness barreling down on them. It was like…
It was like her dreams, Greer realized. The way pieces of the sky shattered apart to swoop down over Mistaken and—
The thought that followed was too terrible to finish. “We need to run! Right now!” Greer screamed, startling several children near her. “Run home! Run to safety! You need to—”
But the first bits of the swarm were already upon them, blotting out any remaining twilight with the dense concentration of so very many bodies.
The screams began as townspeople turned to flee, fighting to outpace the intruders, swatting at furred bodies and papery wings when they could not.
“Moths?” Greer had one moment to vocalize her confusion before several of the winged insects fell upon her.
They were large—bigger than both her hands put together, even with all fingers spread wide—and the silvery color of moonlight. Dark stripes ran along the giant wings, and Greer might have found them striking had they not been picking their way over her body with disgusting heft.
Burdened by the roar of so many wings, screams, and wailing, Greer was struck senseless, unable to move, unable to think. Her head throbbed, feeling as if it were about to split apart.
Ian Brennigan’s voice managed to cut through the chaos, spurring the townspeople to action. “Get home!” he hollered. “Get home, Mistaken!”
People began to run in all directions, fleeing the onslaught. Some slipped and fell, causing others to stumble, trampling them. The air was thick with confusion and shrieks. It was too dark to see, too loud for reason.
Greer couldn’t tell which direction she went; she only knew she had to get away. Stumbling blindly through the madness, she kept her hands out before her, desperate to make sense of her surroundings. More moths flocked to her, batting at her fingers, her face. A jolt of pain shot down her spine as someone ran into her, wrenching her shoulder backward.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” the person fumbled. “I can’t get them off me. Oh God,please,get them off me!”
Greer could just make out the figure of Callum Cairn pitching back and forth as he slapped at winged creatures clinging to his coat,crawling over his face, tangling in his hair. He tripped, fell down an embankment, and rolled out of sight.
Greer changed course, heading away from the hill, and struck the side of a granite boulder. Momentarily stunned, she ran her hands over the rough surface before picking her way to the leeward side. She could use the rock’s size as protection while the swarm blasted through the valley. If she hunkered low enough, she could be out of the worst of it and figure out her next step.
Greer knew this boulder, knew where it was in relation to the rest of the town. She could picture its position on her maps and, using her internal compass, could visualize how best to get home.
A moth struck the boulder above and floundered down, landing on Greer’s head. She’d lost her knitted hat somewhere in the confusion, and could feel the insect’s legs tussle through her hair as it fought to free itself. Swallowing the shriek demanding to be set loose, Greer batted at the moth, trying to dislodge it. But it caught on the yarn of her mittens and began to crawl under the sleeve of her dress. Its body was tufted with fur and felt muscular and meaty and so terribly wrong against her sweep of exposed skin.
Greer’s screams joined the others echoing across the cove, and, as if in response, the sound of the swarm altered. The muffled swish of papery, powdery wings pitched sharper, like wind cutting across something webbed and leathery. Greer froze as she heard the first volley of clicks and chirps.
Bats!
One dove from the sky, snatching up a moth Greer hadn’t even known was on her shoulder. The sound of crunching, struggling bodies filled the air as more bats plunged down, their claws grasping and grabbing.
Greer ducked, crawling across the ground as bits of antennas and twitching legs fell over her. There was a horrible pulse in her head—too much noise, there was too much noise—and she sobbed as she made her slow trek toward the trees, toward home, toward even the smallest hope of safety.
But she couldn’t get away from the bats. There were hundreds ofthem. Thousands. Tens of thousands. It felt as though the entire world was nothing but wings and fangs and claws and teeth.
As the number of moths dwindled, the bats began to turn on one another, lashing out at their own kind. Greer’s thoughts filled with the terrible wet sounds of bellies slashed open and wings sheared off. She heard the screams of the smaller prey, their rasping, rustling death rattles as they tried in vain to escape. She heard the screams of the larger bats, triumph roaring through them, victorious monsters of the night. And she heard the screams of the townspeople, of Mistaken, of her very self, as blood fell like rain down from the black night.
Somehow,Greer made it home.
