To Love a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,3

leaned forward to gather Serek and his fallen blanket.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end again. A piercing chill crept down her spine, pooling in her stomach to turn the dread already gathered there to ice.

Leyloni released a sharp breath and froze. The rain’s drumming was nearly as steady as the beating of her heart, but something subtle had changed—a new tone had been added to it. Not the patter of droplets upon leaves, wood, stone, or dirt, but upon something else.

Mouth dry, Leyloni pressed her lips together and risked a glance over her shoulder.

Her frantic heart stuttered.

A large creature was lowering itself from a tree behind her, its countless legs clutching the trunk as its long, segmented body flowed with smooth, terrifying grace. It was a treestalker. The creature was easily twice as long as Leyloni was tall, and its sharp mandibles were equal in length to her forearms.

The change in the sound of the rainfall had been caused by water hitting the treestalker’s carapace. The creature’s dark, beady eyes, of which there were at least a dozen, fixated upon Leyloni.

Without wasting even an instant on conscious thought, Leyloni turned back to Serek, scooped him and his blanket off the ground, and was upright and running before she’d even drawn the baby fully against her chest.

Roaring thunder shook Leyloni’s world. She didn’t know if Serek was still crying, and she was only distantly aware of his hand tugging her hair and the pain it produced on her scalp. Much more immediate and pressing were the sounds of thrashing vegetation and snapping branches behind her.

The treelurker was giving chase.

Fueled by fear, desperation, and something deeper—defiance—Leyloni poured all her focus into moving. She had not escaped death at her village only to succumb to it here. She would not allow her tribe’s defenders to have perished in vain.

And nothing was going to hurt Serek.

She leapt over gnarled roots and wove between twisted trunks, charged through foliage and across slippery stone. She’d never run so fast in her life. Her aching muscles, thumping heart, and labored breath warned that her weary body was already beyond its limits. Whether it was a small blessing from Mother Eurynome—the great spirit who watched over the forest—or simple luck that prevented Leyloni from falling, she could not guess.

But the sound of the creature’s pursuit drew ever closer. Even with all Leyloni’s will bent toward escape, she would not be able to outrun the treestalker. And there was no hole or hollow anywhere in this forest in which she could hide that the treestalker could not follow her into.

If only I had a spear.

If only I had not invoked Mother Eurynome as though in challenge.

Her knife would be almost useless against this creature, but what choice did she have? She could not run fast enough, could not run far enough. When it had come down to it, when all had seemed lost, her tribe had fought. Her friends, her sisters, her mother and father—they had fought to the bloody end. Had fought to give Leyloni and Serek a chance.

“I am so sorry, Serek,” she whispered.

Leyloni shifted the baby’s weight onto her left arm and drew her knife with her right. Images of those sharp mandibles, scurrying legs, segmented carapace, and black, soulless eyes flitted through her mind, but she would not allow fear to make her hesitate.

She skidded to a halt, feet sliding across the carpet of fallen leaves. The air seemed suddenly charged, and a faint, tingling sensation that had nothing to do with the cold rain arced over her skin.

Lightning filled the forest with blinding white light. The thunder came before that light had even faded, so loud and powerful that it felt as though it would tear Leyloni apart.

Gritting her teeth, she growled through her disorientation and discomfort, tightened her hold on Serek, and raised her weapon. Dark blotches trekked across her field of view, left in the wake of the lightning flash. She spun toward the treelurker, positioning the baby so he was shielded by her body.

Her wet hair slapped into her face, further obscuring her vision. Leyloni swung her knife blindly, releasing a raw, primal scream that tore up her throat and chest but which her ringing ears could barely hear.

Still swinging the blade wildly, she flipped her hair aside and blinked rapidly to clear her vision.

The heavy drumming of the rain, the pounding of her heart, and her ragged breaths were the dominant sounds as the ringing