Page 50 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens

“Francis,” my hand stretched out to the figure on the ground when he grumbled, forcing his body up.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather save the horse,” he smirked, struggling to his feet.

Francis reached for my outstretched hand and I held onto him as though my own life depended on it. “We have no time for your jokes right now,” I screamed out in frustration as I helped him mount my horse; though a part of me was relieved—perhaps his wound wasn’t as bad as it looked.

“If you don’t mind me—ah—” Francis’ words turned into a muffled scream as his hand flew to his injured leg. “I—I am fine.” His, covered in blood, hands wrapped around my waist. “Let’s go.”

The voices of the Royal knights reached my ears when my hold on the reins hardened, turning Annabelle into the depths of the foreign forest—off the pathway. I could only hope my memory of the map would not fail me.

“Silver,” Francis mumbled, leaning on me when the heavy steps of the knights finally quieted. “Do not go to the cabin,” he whispered into my ear, dropping his head on my shoulder.

“You have to stay awake.” I held his hands tightly around my waist. “Stay awake!” I ordered. “Francis—”

I did not have any time to react. On the ground, Francis’ limp body laid upon me, pinching me to the cold soil.

“Francis,” I bellowed, yet the reply never came.

Putting all my strength into holding the reins, I fought Annabelle who tried to escape this vacant place: tried to leave us behind.

“Francis!”

Chapter 19

Silver Blood

“Francis?” Groaning, I got to my feet.

Tightening Annabelle’s reins to a nearby tree, I refused to move my gaze away from Francis’ limp body, as if he would disappear the moment I looked away. “Francis!”

I rushed toward him. Dropping to my knees, I frantically shook his shoulders in a weak attempt to bring his consciousness back.

The wind whispered to me, sending dozens of sharp, cold needles straight into my face.

The wind whispered for me to leave Francis behind, find safety for myself while I still could. I wanted to scream in reply.

A few minutes—that was all we had before the knights would find our crimson path on the fresh white snow. The wind whispered to me, and I begged it to cover our tracks with its powerful force.

For a few moments I just kneeled before Francis, my mind rushed through every possible solution. There was absolutely no way I would be able to sit him atop the horse myself—I needed him awake.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I gathered any strength that remained to stay calm.

The silver arrow shimmered under the Moon’s presence. The crimson drops painted the freshly fallen snow in a color ofdeath. The crimson prickled my throat, challenging me to give up control. I held my breath to stop the urge, yet the aroma drew me in with the most delightful flavor.

Focus!