Blood Oath: The Janna Chronicles 1 Read Free Page A

she traced her way to the small fruiting plants.
    There was a rustle, the crunching of dry leaves and then, sudden and shocking, several sharp explosions of snapping twigs. They sounded alarmingly close. Fighting fear, Janna cast about for signs of the strawberries. With a gasp of relief, she saw the patch of blue flowers. Knowing she was near, for this was the only place she’d noticed monkshood growing wild, she anchored the torch’s handle in a patch of soft earth, then fell to her knees to look for the sweet, wild strawberries. They were small, hidden among the leaves, but she was too impatient and too frightened to seek them out and pick them carefully. Instead, she pulled them off in clumps, leaves and strawberries together, and stuffed them into her purse, desperate to be gone.
    She seized up the torch once more and sprang to her feet. Now the whole forest seemed loud with sounds: a hooting owl; squeaks; a snuffling grunt; crackling twigs; and a steady thumping that terrified Janna until she recognized it was her own heartbeat reverberating in her chest. Yet there was something else, she realized, as her ears isolated and identified each sound. Something large was blundering through the forest without care or thought of danger. A grunting squeal confirmed Janna’s fear. A wild boar was coming her way. Should it find her in its path, it would attack her. She had no knife to defend herself; she had nothing but her wits—and a pair of swift feet. Without stopping to heed her mother’s warning about fleeing from a wild animal, she began to run. With each flying step she imagined the huge beast charging behind her, closer, closer, spearing her with its sharp tusks, bringing her down, trampling her. She lost all sense of direction as she ducked and weaved through the trees in a desperate effort to get away.
    She found herself in a hazel thicket. The trees grew close together, their thin branches woven into traps that caught and held her. She tried to zigzag around them. Tall weeds and dry leaves covered the ground, shrouding sharp flints and unexpected hollows. She had to slow down; it was too hard to keep her footing. Her cloak snagged on brambles and holly leaves as she blundered on. Her breath came in great sobbing gasps. She knew that she was utterly lost, but she dare not stop. She could hear the boar crashing through the undergrowth. It sounded much closer now; she must be running in circles. Fear surged through her body, urging her to a speed she couldn’t sustain. She tripped and fell. At once she staggered to her feet, but the stabbing pain in her side told her she could not go on.
    She stood in a small, moonlit clearing. There was nowhere to hide. She would have to face the boar, and fight for her survival. She could hear it coming; she could even smell it now. Sobbing with fear, Janna snatched up a thin branch from the rotting remains of a fallen tree. She held her torch to the leaves and dry twigs at its tip. Her hand was shaking so badly she could hardly connect flame to tinder.
    A tinge of red, a thin wisp of smoke, and then the flame caught. As the boar hurtled into the clearing, squealing with rage, Janna leaped aside and thrust the burning brand into its face. Responding to a fear more urgent than its need to attack, the creature skidded to a halt. It began to back away, keeping a wary distance from the source of fire.
    Feeling somewhat comforted that her strategy had worked, Janna held aloft the flaming torch and the fiery branch, one in each hand, and considered what to do next. Pointless to go on when every step might take her further from home—yet she couldn’t stand here all night. If only she knew which way to go, the branch might burn long enough for her to reach safety. Undecided, she risked a glance upward, wondering if she might tell her direction from the stars. But the moon’s radiant aura outshone even the brightest of them, while those few stars visible in the darkness above the trees