Read Online Forsaken - An American Sasquatch Tale by Christine Conder - Free Book Online
Authors: Christine Conder
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toward the vestibule. Looking back over her shoulder, she screamed for Adrian to get Nathaniel, but Nathaniel had already appeared.
“Adrian? Liberty?”
She noted the alarm in his voice and heard Adrian begin to tell him what happened, but kept moving.
Reaching the entry, she saw a fresh puddle of water at the base of the ladder, and looked up to see the hatch wide open. She stripped as she climbed, letting her clothes fall into the wetness.
She was still four rungs from the top when she flung herself to the surface. No time to wait for her senses to give the all clear. She snarled as she rose to her feet and took off toward the creek.
She stopped after a minute, leaned against a tree for support and contemplated the idea of heading in the opposite direction, toward the farmhouse. She could ask Mitch for help.
Then she remembered. He was busy making arrangements for Ellie’s funeral.
Liberty wavered with indecision, wondered how this could have happened. Ellie dead one day, and Sage injured the next. It had to be a serious injury. Adrian wouldn’t have come home without her otherwise. Liberty shook her head and pushed away from the tree. She needed to get to her daughter.
Taking a shortcut, Liberty headed north, the straightest way to the creek. It wasn’t the easiest, brush and new pine growth hindered her progress, but she ducked and dodged her way through the foliage, snapping more than a few saplings on her way. She’d not even made it a quarter of the distance when Nathaniel caught up, and then quickly passed her by.
The creek snaked its way east-west, close to the rear boundary of their woods and during this time of the year, early fall, it could be hurdled in a single bound. The ravine sat a couple hundred yards north of there, and as she leapt across, Liberty felt her fear morph into anger.
Why hadn’t Adrian and Sage listened? She’d specifically told them to stay within the creek’s boundary. They knew better. When they got Sage back home and patched up, the two teens had better have good answers.
As she crested a small hill and neared the steep embankment, she saw Nathaniel, shrouded in a dark aura, pacing near the ridge. She growled in fear and frustration. He turned, motioning for her to hurry. What was he doing? Why hadn’t he gone over? She rushed to his side, looked over the edge, and understood.
Dusk had fallen, but her Sasquatch-aided nocturnal vision let her see clear to the bottom. The chasm did not hold an injured body.
Sage’s scent had diminished in the downpour, but there were signs of the path she’d taken down the steep slope. The skid marks and matted greenery were plainly visible through the overgrowth. Sage still had some growing to do, but at fifteen, she stood over seven feet tall in her Sasquatch form. Liberty scanned the entire length of the base, looking for something she had missed, but Sage wasn’t visible anywhere at the bottom.
Maybe she’d got hung up along the way? Nathaniel must’ve had the same idea. Before she knew it, he slipped over the edge and started to pick his way to the bottom. She lost sight of him partway down, a large laurel obstructing her view, so she ran down toward the opposite end and to start her own search. Maybe both looking would find her more quickly.
The trees in this area didn’t have dense canopies, so the rain soaked her pelt. Trying to see better, she stopped every few feet to wring the fur on her head out, like a big soggy rag. Sage’s scent had now washed completely away. There was nothing for Liberty to latch onto, so she found a spot that didn’t look too treacherous to descend. It was as good a spot as any to begin. Perhaps Nathaniel had even already found their daughter.
Every time she stopped on her descent to clear her vision, Liberty called out to Sage. She knew she risked discovery, roaring as she did, but finding Sage outweighed the risk. She focused on the thick underbrush, looked for sable fur, pushed thoughts of
“Adrian? Liberty?”
She noted the alarm in his voice and heard Adrian begin to tell him what happened, but kept moving.
Reaching the entry, she saw a fresh puddle of water at the base of the ladder, and looked up to see the hatch wide open. She stripped as she climbed, letting her clothes fall into the wetness.
She was still four rungs from the top when she flung herself to the surface. No time to wait for her senses to give the all clear. She snarled as she rose to her feet and took off toward the creek.
She stopped after a minute, leaned against a tree for support and contemplated the idea of heading in the opposite direction, toward the farmhouse. She could ask Mitch for help.
Then she remembered. He was busy making arrangements for Ellie’s funeral.
Liberty wavered with indecision, wondered how this could have happened. Ellie dead one day, and Sage injured the next. It had to be a serious injury. Adrian wouldn’t have come home without her otherwise. Liberty shook her head and pushed away from the tree. She needed to get to her daughter.
Taking a shortcut, Liberty headed north, the straightest way to the creek. It wasn’t the easiest, brush and new pine growth hindered her progress, but she ducked and dodged her way through the foliage, snapping more than a few saplings on her way. She’d not even made it a quarter of the distance when Nathaniel caught up, and then quickly passed her by.
The creek snaked its way east-west, close to the rear boundary of their woods and during this time of the year, early fall, it could be hurdled in a single bound. The ravine sat a couple hundred yards north of there, and as she leapt across, Liberty felt her fear morph into anger.
Why hadn’t Adrian and Sage listened? She’d specifically told them to stay within the creek’s boundary. They knew better. When they got Sage back home and patched up, the two teens had better have good answers.
As she crested a small hill and neared the steep embankment, she saw Nathaniel, shrouded in a dark aura, pacing near the ridge. She growled in fear and frustration. He turned, motioning for her to hurry. What was he doing? Why hadn’t he gone over? She rushed to his side, looked over the edge, and understood.
Dusk had fallen, but her Sasquatch-aided nocturnal vision let her see clear to the bottom. The chasm did not hold an injured body.
Sage’s scent had diminished in the downpour, but there were signs of the path she’d taken down the steep slope. The skid marks and matted greenery were plainly visible through the overgrowth. Sage still had some growing to do, but at fifteen, she stood over seven feet tall in her Sasquatch form. Liberty scanned the entire length of the base, looking for something she had missed, but Sage wasn’t visible anywhere at the bottom.
Maybe she’d got hung up along the way? Nathaniel must’ve had the same idea. Before she knew it, he slipped over the edge and started to pick his way to the bottom. She lost sight of him partway down, a large laurel obstructing her view, so she ran down toward the opposite end and to start her own search. Maybe both looking would find her more quickly.
The trees in this area didn’t have dense canopies, so the rain soaked her pelt. Trying to see better, she stopped every few feet to wring the fur on her head out, like a big soggy rag. Sage’s scent had now washed completely away. There was nothing for Liberty to latch onto, so she found a spot that didn’t look too treacherous to descend. It was as good a spot as any to begin. Perhaps Nathaniel had even already found their daughter.
Every time she stopped on her descent to clear her vision, Liberty called out to Sage. She knew she risked discovery, roaring as she did, but finding Sage outweighed the risk. She focused on the thick underbrush, looked for sable fur, pushed thoughts of
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