A scream pierced the dark, sending birds into spontaneous flight. The crickets ceased their night song and Dori’s eyes dilated. She knew that cry, it was her daughter, Layla. Her heart dropped into her stomach as the adrenaline surged into her bloodstream.
Ducking under branches and leaping over bushes, Dori’s feet couldn’t move fast enough. She all but disappeared with speed, exploding into action at the first sound of her daughter’s distress. How could she have been so far away while her child lay vulnerable?
The house grew larger as she approached, a thin layer of wood separating her from her endangered child. It would be nothing to break through the wall, it wouldn’t even slow her down, but despite being cloaked in the dark of night, she drew up short. She stood mere feet from her screaming child, incapable of rescuing her. To the world she was dead. In nearly every aspect of the word she was, but here she stood, debating the trauma it would cause her three year old if she burst through the wall to rescue her.
Seconds ticked by while Dori dithered outside, paralyzed with indecision. Could a member of Percy’s coven have followed her here, determined to take revenge? Her hands clenched into tight fists. She drew her arm back to strike when Layla’s shrieks stopped abruptly. The child’s slight heart beat frantically like a butterfly trapped in a tornado. Dori’s hearing was astute, but all she heard now was muffled whispers coming from inside the house. Gritting her teeth she struck.