The fruit wobbled, but didn’t fall. Dammit! Screeching, the crows flurried into the air. They’d be on her in moments. She pushed down the fear starting to ripple through her and nocked another arrow, aiming for the stem this time. It was a tricky target—but she only had time for one last shot. The arrow left the string with a hum, and Spark dashed after it. The crows increased their racket and began diving at her. She ducked low, feeling claws tangle in her hair. Ahead, the copper apple fell, the stem neatly severed. With a final burst of speed, Spark flung herself forward and caught the fruit in one hand. Using her bow, she beat back the dark birds and hurried to summon up one of her elemental spells. Air—that would do it. Clutching the apple to her chest, she chanted the awkward syllables. A gust of wind swept through the clearing, whipping her hair into her face, and pushing the crows back. Spark turned and ran, the angry calls of the birds following her. She made it about halfway through the orchard when the blossom-scattered grass before her erupted into a tangle of thorns.
