Read Online Anew: Book One: Awakened by Josie Litton - Free Book Online

leaf-to-be, every scent on the
wind, every dancing mote of light wrings joy from me.
    But alongside it is anguish.
What was the word that Ian used--harvest? I have a sudden image of myself
splayed open and gutted, bleeding out into the liquid that filled the chamber,
the life in me taken for the sake of another.
    Abruptly, I double over as dry
heaves wrack me. Under my clothes, a fine sheen of sweat coats my skin. A
passing gust of wind makes me shiver.
    Belatedly, I realize that I am
desperately thirsty. Except for the few sips of water in Ian’s office, I’ve had
nothing to eat or drink all day. My mouth and throat are dry to the point of
discomfort. My stomach is hollow and, as though that isn’t enough, the muscles
in my calves are beginning to cramp.
    As fit as I apparently am, I
know that last symptom can be a warning sign of dehydration. Others will
follow--fatigue, weakness, and mental confusion, none of which I can afford in
my present circumstances.
    The thought flickers that I
could have planned my mad rush into the wilderness a little better, packed a
knapsack with a few supplies…water, a compass, a bag of trail mix, maybe a
granola bar or two, definitely a sweater. The absurdity of that wrings a wan
smile from me but not for long.
    According to the position of the
sun, I’m heading east. The lake I glimpsed from the palazzo was in that
direction but it’s too far off and I can’t risk surface water in any case. It’s
too likely to be contaminated by the natural run-off from local wildlife. I’m looking
for a small spring ideally bubbling up from underground. There’s a much better
chance of that being cleaner and safer to drink.
    I pause for a moment,
considering that I must know how to find safe water because Susannah did. Does
that mean she enjoyed the outdoors? Did she and Ian go hiking together? Did
they camp under the stars, making love beside a blazing fire and--
    He said that she was eleven
years old when I was cloned from her which means she would have been only
thirty-three when she died. Older than him but not by all that much.
    I’m jealous of a dead woman.
Sickeningly, horribly envious of what she shared with him. He cared for her, at
best he lusts for me. She was the woman he chose to be with whereas I am, by
his own account, someone he knew nothing about until a week ago. Her fantasy,
not necessarily his.
    Yet still someone, not some thing .
At all costs, I have to remember that.
    I keep moving, my senses alert
for any sign of water. There is a hill ahead and I climb it in the hope of
glimpsing the palazzo. I’m under no illusion about not going back; the
circumstances leave me no choice. But I would prefer to do it before I’m
missed. Ian did say to stay on the grounds and while I have no compunctions
about disregarding his orders, I don’t feel up to dealing with the inevitable
fallout. Instinctively, I don’t want to find out just how angry he can be.
    Surmounting the hill, I turn in
all directions and stare out over pristine woodlands interspersed here and
there with patches of open ground and glittering lakes. The view is
breathtaking but also alarming. I’ve traveled even farther than I thought.
Wherever the palazzo is, I can’t see any sign of it.
    Panic flares in me but only for
a moment. I need to keep calm. If I can remember what direction I went in when
I fled, I can retrace my steps.
    I stay on the hilltop until the
wind picks up and I realize how cold I am. Going down turns out to be harder
than climbing up. I lose my footing on the damp ground, slipping and sliding
until I finally reach the bottom in less than dignified fashion. My blouse is
torn in several places from encounters with sharp branches and my pants are stained
with dirt.
    Glancing down at myself, I
realize that I’m no longer the pristine woman I saw in the mirror in the golden
room. For better or worse, I am finally living. That, at least, provides some
consolation.
    I decide to head west for no
better