Fearless Travelers' Guide to Wicked Places

Fearless Travelers' Guide to Wicked Places — page 3
Prologue ight was falling Time to trumpet her call home but the pure white swan racing across the darkening sky was silent as the bones of the dead N Bones The thought would not leave her now She had seen them tumble from the dark cloud like bits of snow Heard them plunk into the silent sea and sink beneath the cold water leaving no trace Four of her brothers and three of her sisters had already been eaten by the dense cloud the color of a rotten plum There was no song for it No way to understand it Never had there been a cloud that brought not shade from the sun not whispering snow or gentle rain but death The clouds had become wolves unrelenting beasts chasing the swans through the sky with silent white paws and cunning noses from which they could not escape But I will escape the cloud the swan thought as she pushed on alone toward home through the vast night I must Two of her babies were awaiting her return A long hiss filled the air around her A trumpet of fear escaped from the swan’s long white throat Now she knew the sound of the vaporous beast that had swallowed her brothers and sisters It was right behind her Faster she told herself Faster She pushed harder beating her wings until they burned with pain but it was too late The sky became muddled with mist In a few seconds she could see no sky before her and no earth below only wisps of purple vapor The smell of the world and all it contained disappeared just as quickly replaced by the throat-stinging char of woodsmoke Cold enveloped her and snow began to fall coating her feathers The flakes fat and damp quickly turned to ice and with a CRACK they tightened like a chain