*Book 1 in the DragonKin series*
Vada and her siblings spend their days carving out a living in the Rystwith Mountain village of Riska. Together they live as outcasts in a small two-story hut just outside the lowland village centre, cast out due to...
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Vada's muscles burned as she propelled her body up the side of one of the many towering cliff faces that dotted the landscape of the Rystwith mountain range. The exposed skin on her shoulders and back glistened with a mix of sweat and moisture from the thick milky white fog that swirled around her and the towering, twisting mountain.
Life had gone very much back to normal after Vada's chance meeting by the stream, but she often thought about the man she had healed. Where did he come from, she wondered, how did he come by such a wound and where did he so urgently need to get back to. Such thoughts flooded her mind whenever she was alone.
Reaching a thin ledge on which to perch, Vada pulled her canvas bag onto her lap, inside, buried beneath the flowers and herbs she had so far harvested from the cliff-face, she found a small package containing some slightly stale bread and a small bitter apple that made her purse her lips with every bite.
As she ate she watched the way the mist rolled and swirled, troubled by the same unpredictable winds that rocked the simple rope bridges which stretched from one plateau to another.
Lifting her hand to her brow, Vada squinted into the sky to find that the sun had fallen faster than she had realised. Twilight was fast approaching and that gave her very little time to reach the plains upon which her people had long ago built their village.
Ensuring her bag was fastened securely, Vada stood slowly. Every movement had to be precise to avoid losing her footing or being caught up by the wind.
Turning quickly, Vada took to climbing swiftly, faced with nightfall and the hazards it presented, the ache in her muscles suddenly seemed to shrink away from her mind as did her thoughts of the mystery man.
As she passed close to one of the many rope bridges several elders from her village called out, waving their arms and shaking their heads, berating Vada for her dangerous behaviour.
Ignoring the elders Vada pressed on. Every now and again, she would reach out and quickly snatch at a patch of vegetation, shoving her treasures in the canvas bag bouncing against her hip all without slowing her ascent.
When finally she reached the summit, Vada retrieved a large, rusted hook from her belt. Holding it tightly she took a deep breath, bent her knees slightly then sprang straight up, swinging the hook through the air in a wide arc before slamming it into the earth of the plane. With the added leverage the hook afforded she began dragging her body over the edge to safety.
Just as she was about to make the final pull that would have the majority of her body weight safely on the plane, the hook gave a shudder and her body began to slip back, leaving an ugly gouge in the dirt as the hook was pulled along with her. With her free hand, Vada grabbed at the grass in a panic, desperately trying to find purchase to heave herself to safety.
