Its bellows shook the earth and Kestrel’s senses. Blind, hot pain lanced through her. She gripped her ears, trying to protect herself from the talons that sliced into her skull, but no amount of pressure could block out the monster’s frenzied cries.
Kestrel’s knees buckled. Her vision quivered. And soon the ground was flipping upside down, with her crashing atop it.
Dust billowed from the cracked earth. Kestrel squeezed her eyes and mouth shut, but she was unable to stop herself from inhaling the harsh dryness through her nose.
A cough wrenched out of her.
A sound that she knew would mean her doom.
Kestrel needed to flee, just like when she had encountered that cinder all those years ago. Only this time, Thom wouldn’t be there to rescue her. How foolish she had been to stumble into a monster’s trap—again. But there would be time to chastise herself and hear Thom’s voice echoing reprimands in her head later.
Kestrel clawed at the ground and began hauling herself away. Clay piled underneath her nails. Jagged rocks sliced herforearms and cut through her trousers. She gritted her teeth through the sting of it and kept moving. Kept dragging her body as far as she could, begging for the screeching to lessen so that she might regain some sense of coherence and be able to run.
“Where are you going, lost daughter!” With each word the Maw bellowed, its façade cracked more. Gone was his soothing lull, and all signs of the acceptance and warmth he had promised. In its place was a sound so raw and guttural, it made Kestrel feel as if she had been swallowed by death. “Come back to me!” the monster roared, the earth shaking beneath Kestrel’s fingertips. “Let us enter the darkness together!”
Tears leaked down her face at the putrid rage erupting from the crater. That voice wanted nothing more than to devour her, to tear her to shreds and relish in her agony.
And she had been the naïve idiot who had almost willingly delivered herself to it.
Even after all these years, she had still learned nothing from Thom’s warnings.
Kestrel heard and felt the heavy thud behind her before she saw it. Checking over her shoulder, she gaped at the source of the tremor. One thick, writhing tentacle slithered across the wasteland, a predator set to strike, and she was the helpless prey.
But in the midst of the rumbling and Kestrel’s quiet sobs, she heard it again. A rasping, high-pitched cry was growing louder, sounding more and more like a growl.
Kestrel had almost forgotten about it.
But there it was again.
That cry for help that she was beginning to realize wasn’t a cry for help at all, but a declaration of battle.
A blur of orange leapt over her head. Something small thudded by her face, but her eyes were trained on the furry creature bounding over her as it landed in a skittering of rocksnext to her prone body. Kestrel recognized the animal by its bushy tail and pointed ears, although the foxes she was used to spying from her tower windows were usually more sand-colored.
This one, however, was as orange as her own hair.
The fox stood its ground, hackles raised as a low growl emanated from its throat. It might’ve been menacing if it hadn’t been aimed at a monster tenfold its size. But Kestrel was grateful for its camaraderie all the same.
She pulled her gaze away long enough to see what had fallen from the fox as it jumped over her and was surprised to find her own knife glistening in the sunlight in front of her. Surely, the heat was making her imagine things, otherwise she would be inclined to believe that this small creature had seen her in trouble, retrieved her blade, and was now coming to help her fight.
Kestrel didn’t have a second longer to think about it though, for scouring the lands behind her, she heard the tentacle gaining haste. It felt around the dried cracks of the earth for her. Hungry and undeterred.
Soon it would reach them, and then all hope would be lost.
Kestrel palmed the knife and twisted back around, but her time was already up.
The slimy tendril of darkness was gliding over her foot and up her calf. It was already coiling around her thigh before she had a chance to think about what she might do. If she struck it, the knife might pierce her own flesh. If she tried wriggling free—well, there was no room to wriggle free now. The monster had her. All it had to do was squeeze.
Before Kestrel could conjure a viable third option, the fox lunged. Its sharp fangs dug into the oily flesh. A black, tar-like liquid oozed fromthe wound.
The bellow that shook from the depths was more enraged than it was in pain.
With a deft flick, the tentacle knocked the fox onto its haunches, right into the grasp of another tentacle.
Kestrel could’ve sworn she felt the primal attention of the Maw shifting then, releasing her. No longer was she the easy mark it desired. It had ensnared a new creature.
The tentacle that had been mere moments away from dragging Kestrel to her death below unfurled itself and began charging toward the fox instead.
The fox’s orange body twisted and flailed, only making its situation worse. The tentacle constricted around its chest, turning its cries into ear-piercing screams. Too many times to count, Kestrel had heard similar shrieks of terror from her tower, when coyotes or worse would corner some frightened creature below, and Kestrel could do nothing but listen to their shrieks for mercy while they were given none.
