Read Online Arena One: Slaverunners by Morgan Rice - Free Book Online

safer we will be. I can’t just sit here all day and do nothing, waiting for nightfall. And I can’t risk changing the plan and moving us during daylight, just because of our silly dreams.
    I pull Bree back, stroking her hair out of her face, smiling as sweetly as I can. I muster the strongest, most adult voice that I can.
    “Bree, I need you to listen to me,” I say. “I need to go out now, just for a little while—”
    “NO!” she wails. “I KNEW it! It’s just like my dream! You’re going to leave me! And you’re never going to come back!”
    I hold her shoulders firmly, trying to console her.
    “It’s not like that,” I say firmly. “I just need to go for an hour or two. I just need to make sure our new house is safe for our move tonight. And I need to hunt for food. Please, Bree, understand. I would bring you with me, but you are too sick right now, and you need to rest. I’ll be back in just a few hours. I promise. And then tonight, we’ll go up there together. And do you know what the best part is?”
    She looks up at me slowly, still crying, and eventually shakes her head.
    “Starting tonight, we’ll be up there together, safe and sound, and have a fire every night, and all the food you want. And I can hunt and fish and do everything I need to right there, in front of the cottage. I’ll never have to leave you again.”
    “And Sasha can come, too?” she asks, through her tears.
    “And Sasha, too,” I say. “I promise. Please, trust me. I’ll be back for you. I would never leave you.”
    “Do you promise?” she asks.
    I muster all the solemnity I can, and look her dead in the eyes.
    “I promise,” I reply.
    Bree’s crying slows and eventually, she nods, seeming satisfied.
    It breaks my heart, but I quickly lean in, plant a kiss on her forehead, then get up, cross the room and walk out the door. I know that if I stay for just one second more, I’ll never summon the resolve to leave.
    And as the door reverberates behind me, I just can’t shake the sickening feeling that I’ll never see my sister again.
     

 
     
THREE
     
     
    I hike straight up the mountain in the bright light of morning, an intense light shining off the snow. It is a white universe. The sun shines so strongly, I can barely see in the glare. I would do anything for a pair of sunglasses, or a baseball cap.
    Today is thankfully windless, warmer than yesterday, and as I hike, I hear the snow melting all around me, trickling in small streams downhill and dropping in big clumps off of pine branches. The snow is softer, too, and walking is easier.
    I check back over my shoulder, survey the valley spread out below, and see that the roads are partially visible again in the morning sun. This worries me, but then I chide myself, annoyed that I am allowing myself to be disturbed by omens. I should be tougher. More rational, like Dad.
    My hood is up, but as I lower my head to the wind, which grows stronger the higher I get, I wish I’d worn my new scarf. I bunch my hands and rub them, wishing for gloves, too, and double my speed. I am resolved to get there quickly, scout out the cottage, search for that deer, and hurry back down to Bree. Maybe I’ll salvage a few more jars of jam, too; that will cheer Bree up.
    I follow my tracks from yesterday, still visible in the melting snow, and this time, the hike is easier. Within about twenty minutes, I’m back to where I was the day before, rounding the highest plateau.
    I am sure I am in the same place as yesterday, but as I look for the cottage, I can’t find it. It is so well hidden that, even though I know where to look, I still can’t see it. I start to wonder if I’m in the right place. I continue on, following my footsteps, until I get to the exact spot I stood the day before. I crane my neck, and finally, I spot it. I’m amazed at how well-concealed it is, and am even more encouraged about living here.
    I stand and listen. All is silent save for the sound of the trickling