Page 137 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
Never should have.
I take my downfall, and I twist it.
The monster’s emotion overflows me. Once more, I find myself reaching for something I can’t see, unsure why I’m reaching in the first place.
It feels heavy in my chest, as if I’m choking on a hunk of metal. And yet, it eases the sting of my wound.
A double-edged sword.
Then I rip the weapon from Calista’s hand, wrapping an arm around her and running for the academy.
I’m surprised when the monster follows. Its movements are slowed, its inhibitions lowered, but my touch was not enough to kill something of its stature.
We are not in the clear.
I push a tired and hurt Calista to the floor. She screams my name as she falls, and I turn back to face the creature.
Even slowed, it’s faster than us. Already steps away.
I run toward it.
I force myself not to falter.
Blood clings to my shirt. Breath fails to come. If I don’t defeat this creature, I’m dead. I will bleed out. Succumb to my wound. If I don’t kill the moonaro, I won’t have the space to heal myself.
If I even can.
We haven’t been taught to heal our own wounds.
The weight of the world presses against my shoulders as I give birth to a tree. It emerges from the ground beneath me, my feet right atop the bark.
As I rise into the sky with the trunk, I worry I don’t have the strength needed to reach the moonaro’s height.
That I don’t have the strength to swing the sword.
There’s only one way to kill a moonaro. What if I can’t?
I have to.
The tree stops growing as I reach the moonaro’s head.
I swing the sword at its neck.
The head comes rolling down with the thick scent of blood.
Chapter 26
I Ruined Everything
by Saying It Out
Loud
I
’m floating.
I don’t realize what’s happening until my back hits the ground. Air knocks from my lungs.
