Abigail

0 - Nowhere

AN: If you've read the earlier draft, throw out everything you think you know. This is the story as it was meant to be told: a middle grades fantasy that doesn't take itself too seriously. A light, entertaining read of a trio of travelers!

We lost.

The words were like fireblisters in Xander's brain—a searing pain he couldn't ignore. We lost. His stomped his boots harder through the ice and snow. He needed to focus on what was next. Despite the bushy beard, ice mist still sliced his cheeks as strode through the trees, and blood trickled into the curly red hairs.

Couldn't the Beast smell blood? The thought came unbidden. His heart quickened. "Quickly," he said, jerking his head to the two women following, their long skirts dragging.

"How?" the taller woman asked. Drew's wife. A head taller than her husband, but somehow Xander never quite remembered her name. Now Drew was gone, and she was all that was left of him. "This wind!"

The wind was merciless. It beat his cloak into a furious storm as he moved, leaving his back unguarded to the cold. But he ignored the urge to sympathize.

"Do you know what will happen if he finds you woman? Or your child?" He jostled the sleeping boy on his shoulder, cheeks blue from cold. "He'll tear the boy into pieces and devour his knack crystal. While you were complaining about the wind."

The woman rolled her eyes and looked to the other woman for confirmation, but Frieda's face was pale with fear, and she gathered her infant closer to her breast and moved.

Good, Xander thought. Sympathy saves no lives.

"Are we the last ones?" Frieda asked, pulling ahead of even Xander.

"Yes." The seventh and smallest trip. The last survivors.

We lost.

The thought shook him, and he could never shake it.

"And the place we're going, Xander? A fortress?"

Xander grit his teeth. To speak of it here! Did she want to die? Did she want to be found?

"It's nowhere," he replied.

"Nowhere?"

He didn't say it again. Nowhere. It did have a kind of ring to it.