Even the acrid wind felt stunted. Lifeless. Zephra thought it strange that the scream carried. All around her ugly and spindly scrub trees struggled to grow, sharp needles pulling at clothing if she came to close. Some could even shoot their needles if she walked too heavily. Innocent looking brown grasses sprung up in clumps that she was careful to avoid. In Incendin, even those could be poisonous. The ever-present scorching sun burned her exposed skin so that Zephra had quickly learned to cover herself completely. Everything about the land was designed to kill. She hated and feared the land almost as much as she feared those who lived here. Zephra paused to take a slow drink from her waterskin as she considered the source of the scream. She had heard others since entering Incendin, each muted in the lifeless air smothering the land, but this was different. Closer. And more urgent. Anything in Incendin could be a trap – especially screams that sounded so human, so familiar.
What do You think about Chasing The Wind (Novella)?
