It’s #BookQW and ‘eat’ing is the last thing on my heroine’s mind!
More from Chapter 6:
“Can you remove it?” she asked faintly.
“Dispelling is nae something to hurry.”
Beri shrugged one shoulder. “She has to get it all, you ken?”
“You weren’t in it long,” Willow said. “I’ll know after I remove the first layer.”
A fresh wave of nausea coursed through Fern. “And if you can’t?”
“Well, no one has died of it…yet,” Raven said, and Willow and Beri both glared at him.
“I could die?” Fern gasped. It was getting hard to catch her breath.
Beri frowned at Raven. “Willow won’t let that happen, will you?”
“I’ll do my best. Now be brave and hold very still, Fern. This will hurt more the longer I go.” Willow bent her blond head to the bubble.
That was true. Barbs jabbed inside her foot. Fern gritted her teeth and crossed her arms. Weird images and random thoughts slipped in and out of her mind, until the only thing keeping her steady was Beri’s hand on her knee. This is helping me. She is helping me.
“Is this magic, um, energy why I’m”—Fern didn’t want to say feeling drugged—“tired?”
“I promise you are having a typical reaction,” Willow said. “Pain, exhaustion as it robs your energy, some”—she glanced away—“difficulty thinking clearly.”
“How about something to eat?”
Beri asked, and Raven pilled out a handful of cloth-wrapped bundles from the messenger bag he’d had when he and Willow arrived.
Fern bit her lower lip, fending off horrible thoughts of them unwrapping a carcass. A loud sigh escaped her, something she didn’t ever do, not even when telling regular people she was vegetarian. What was wrong with her? Beri only offered her a grainy, moist-looking muffin, just the kind Mom would approve of—not a chicken leg or freaky-colored yogurt. Still, Fern shook her head. The clawing at her ankle cut to an end, and Willow poked a wad of shiny red magic out of her bubble. Raven tilted a small bowl up to catch it, and the red clump slid to the bottom. Blood…
No, it wasn’t, but Fern swallowed and looked away. She tried to ignore the next stabs and pulls by closing her eyes and thinking of what she’d do early tomorrow, the ditch, then…the pond plants. Or she’d plant first…
“Late,” Raven muttered, “but it’ll finish before we do.” Fern startled, and her eyes flashed open. Outside, it was raining. Which meant she couldn’t do something. But what? Was it important? She hurt, hurt, hurt, in a way that dulled thought and had her holding her stomach.
***
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