Arcene: The Island Read Online Free

storm is heading right for us," shrieked Fasolt. Already, it was hard to hear him. The wind was fierce, and the darkness hurtled toward them faster than they could escape.
    Oops, maybe I'm not exaggerating.
    "Get ready, get ready. Hold on tight and whatever you do don't fall out." Fasolt gripped on tight to the basket; Arcene did the same as the first really powerful gust of wind hit and rocked the basket violently.
    Leel whimpered and lay down; Fasolt shrieked like a baby; Arcene smiled into the swirling, elemental force and dared it to do its worst.
    Bad move. Uh-oh.
    "Ugh. Argh, yuck!" Arcene spat out a mouthful of bugs, tiny, brittle and chewy bits stuck in her teeth, a quick flashback to her youth when she had eaten insects on purpose as she was so close to starving — she learned how to hunt and trap animals soon after. Bugs were no way for a child to get strong and survive in an uncaring world.
    Hard pellets rained down onto the balloon canopy, pat, pat, pattering faster and faster, and the wind changed direction, angling down then up, catapulting the swarm of insects right at them, smacking Arcene in the face like a million grains of sand like when she'd once found herself in the middle of an unseasonal storm on a beach at some unnamed town.
    She turned away from the onslaught, picking what appeared to be ladybugs from her hair, out of her nose and mouth. They were even in her ears. Gross! She examined the tiny creatures in the half-light, little black things with red dots, before the basket rocked wildly and the insects were forgotten. She clutched tightly to the wicker rim of the square basket suspended by ropes from a balloon high above the ground, as nature decided to put them firmly in their place and show who was boss.
    Fasolt's hair was out of control. He'd lost his topknot completely now. The meters long dreadlocks flapped wildly, like tattered sails on their airborne ship, hitting her arms and legs, slamming into their faces like evil tentacles, wrapping around the ropes and knotting as their transport lurched this way and that.
    "I'm stuck, untie me, untie me," screamed Fasolt, spitting as he got a mouthful of ladybugs. There was real fear in his eyes, the only time she had seen him genuinely afraid. He fumbled with the caught hair, but the basket was swaying too violently and he had to hold onto the ropes securing the basket so he didn't fall out.
    The wind became a hurricane, gusted past as if to win a race, and more thick dreadlocks were pulled high above Fasolt's head as if an invisible puppet master was making him dance and scream for daring to defy nature — man was to walk the earth, not fly in the air.
    Fasolt's eyes opened wide in terror. He was stuck fast, head close to one of the ropes, hair wrapped tight. Arcene turned and saw a flock of dark specks heading straight for them. Birds.
    "Leel, Leel, don't stand up, stay on the floor." Leel whimpered and tried to hide under her paws, covering her floppy ears and eyes with paws as large as Arcene's head. Arcene kept her grip and ducked down low, the respite from the wind welcome and glorious.
    Everything went silent for a moment, the shelter allowing her to gather her thoughts and breathe without fear of death by bugs.
    The balloon dropped without warning, the wind gone. Her stomach lurched and Fasolt screamed. Leel whimpered and then they were buffeted high, the sudden pressure drop filled with an incredible gale that sent them hurtling skyward, racing the wind as they entered the storm proper.
    Then all hell broke loose as the flock of geese slammed into the balloon canopy and the basket, dull thuds that shook her teeth and sent her clutching at Leel for comfort.
    The basket rocked almost sideways and Arcene slid over to Fasolt's legs, stick thin and hairy. She grabbed at a calf then looked up.
    Ugh, bad move. Stupid willy, stupid bare bum. Arcene averted her gaze — the last thing she wanted was for her final memory before death to be of Fasolt's