Forest of Demons Read Online Free Page A

had the grace to look shamefaced.
    Priya gathered her sewing things. The mention of Mala, of usurping her in any way, had left a bitter taste in her mouth. The evening was ruined.
    As she stood, her eyes caught movement out of the window. She froze. Something moved in the shadows beyond the onion patch. Something huge and as black as the ink that Master Munim had used to write comments on their homework. Twin crimson orbs pinned her to the spot.
    “Priya? Priya, what’s wrong?” Papa’s calloused hand rested on her shoulder as he came to stand beside her, his eyes scanning the dark. His hand tensed, fingers digging into her flesh. “Go to your room,” he said.
    The slight quiver his voice disconcerted her, but she backed away from the window as instructed. “What is it?”
    “A dog. Just a dog. Kunti, fetch my stick.”
    “What? You’re not going out there?”
    There was fear in Ma’s voice too. It was true, they didn’t have many dogs in the village, but the ones they had were well trained and used as guard dogs. Maybe this one was wild, but did wild dogs have crimson eyes?
    Papa was pulling on his shawl.
    “Prem, no!” Ma grabbed hold of his arm, her eyes wild.
    “What is it? Why are you so scared?” Priya asked.
    Papa and Ma both froze, a look passed between them, and then Papa slowly unwrapped his shawl from his shoulders.
    “Just an old dog. I’m sure it will get bored and be on its way.”
    Ma sagged in relief. “More chai?”
    “Yes love.” Papa reclaimed his seat and relit his pipe. Priya watched them through narrowed eyes. Something had just happened, and she’d missed its significance. As she made her way toward her room, she cast one last glance in Papa’s direction. He was smoking his pipe, the plumes rising furiously fast, his eyes fixed on the window.
    That night, just as she was about to drift to sleep, Priya realized that Papa had never answered Ma’s question. Had someone asked for her hand in marriage, and if so, who had it been? She was too tired to think on it further and allowed herself to be pulled into sleep’s warm embrace, where adventure and the wide world waited.
     
    Priya was shaken awake by Ma. She opened her eyes, disorientated. Was it morning already? The room was dark as pitch.
    The scratch of a match, the flare of a candlewick, and Ma’s worried face was illuminated acting like a cold bucket of water.
    “What’s wrong?” Priya sat up quickly.
    “It’s your Papa. He’s in terrible pain—his leg, and he has a fever. I need you to fetch the vythian. Just tell him we’ll pay him . . . we will pay him.”
    Priya grabbed Ma’s hand. “I’ll pay him. I have some coin saved.”
    Ma shook her head. “But that’s for your dream.”
    “My dream isn’t going anywhere. Go stay with Papa. I’ll get the vythian.”
    “Be careful. Go fast, and don’t stop for anyone.” Ma kissed her forehead before retreating back to her bedroom.
    Priya pulled on her clothes and shoes, wrapped herself in her father’s shawl and slipped from the house. The coins felt heavy in her pocket, but she knew she’d have to show them to the vythian to prompt his help.
    The village was silent, sunrise still hours away. She slipped through the moonlit streets like a ghost. The vythian, lived on the other side of the market square, and as she hurried across the square, she was distracted by a weak, flickering light illuminating the smithy window. Her step faltered. Could there be a fire? She had no time for Ravi, but the smithy was his livelihood. If there was a chance that it may be compromised, she had to investigate and alert someone, if need be.
    Decision made, she cut across the square and stepped into the shadows surrounding the smithy. The window was high, but she found a crate to stand on, and grasping the thick ledge, she peered in through the window.
    There was indeed a fire—a controlled, deliberate one in the grate. She looked down, ready to step off the crate, when movement