Mini-excerpt: The Light Who Shines: Prologue: Part 02

Mor leads me past the blacksmith’s shop, behind Fergus’ cottage, toward the forest. I see their torches at my cottage now. A voice yells, “They are gone!” and the villagers continue to chant, “Burn the Witch! Burn the Witch!”

I cast through my mind wildly now, seeking out a remembrance of a place to hide. My mind comes up empty, just as it did all winter when I feared a night such as this would come. I should have braved the cold and gone to the sea caves where the dragon tribe dwells despite the perilous winter journey.

Just then, Sorcha lets out a loud bawl, and I hear Grainne yell, “She is over there!”

Mor and I run around Fergus’ cottage and make for the edge of the woods. The throng is following us quickly with the younger men in the lead. The woods are just up ahead—if only we could lose them in the woods! If only Sorcha would stop crying!

We reach heavy brush, and I hear the thunder of feet behind me. Just at the edge of the woods, my foot catches on a tree root and I tumble to the ground. As I land on the hard dirt, I twist to protect Sorcha from being crushed by my weight, and pain shoots up my leg. Fear strikes my heart as I realize I have a choice to make.

“Mor!” I yell.

Mor glances over her shoulder and sees me on the ground. I try to stand, but my knee gives way. I can see the torches through the dark coming swiftly closer.

“Mor, take Sorcha. It is too late. Run. Keep her safe!”

Mor stands there, petrified. She looks at me, she looks at the woods in front of her, and she looks at the torches that are almost upon us. I thrust Sorcha out while warm, wet tears stream down my cheeks and fall unheeded onto the snow. “Take the bairn! It’s me they want!”

Mor grabs Sorcha and my arms, bereft of their lovely burden, fall uselessly at my sides. I stare hungrily after Sorcha for one last moment, and just as Mor and Sorcha disappear in the dark of the woods, the torches are upon me. First the young men arrive, their faces ugly with rage. I know each of them, grew up with them, broke bread with them, bartered with them, sang with them, but it matters not. It is their fear that drives them this night, and no proclamations of innocence or fond memories will help me now...

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Excerpt from: The Light Who Shines

By: Lilo Abernathy

On Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Light-Who-Shines-Bluebell-Kildare-ebook/dp/B00HYH3ZU4/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-1&qid=1392572506