Ravenous Read Online Free

morning have vanished.
    Something nearby scared them off. My breath hitches in my chest. I remain as still as possible while I slowly turn my head.
    Nothing. Just the unsettling silence and me.
    I creep to my feet. Perhaps the big oak hides whatever has frightened the animals in the woods.
    I clutch my pack to my chest. No sudden moves. I only hope there isn’t a beast behind me with a gaping maw.
    I peek around the trunk—still no sign of the bird-beast. But a horrible stench floats on the breeze that makes me gag. I swallow my nausea and step around the tree. That stink is the first new clue I’ve found. Only something huge and carnivorous smells that bad. I hold my cloak to my nose and press on through the woods. The path has become more and more overgrown, and now is marked only by erratic patches of crushed undergrowth and broken branches from the few recent travelers. It makes for slower going, but I do my best to keep up a steady pace.
    The source of that smell may be what I seek.
    It isn’t long before the stench becomes overwhelming. The afternoon sun will wane soon, but I must find this thing before then. It would be impossible to sleep in this rancid air.
    Finally I see more light peeking through the green forest. A clearing lies up ahead. I move faster through the trees, and the branches scrape and tear at my clothes, pushing me back like they don’t want me to succeed.
    Moments later I stand in the glade, frozen and gaping.
    It isn’t a beast I’ve been hunting—it’s a house. With chicken legs and a feather-thatched roof.
    I back up against the nearest tree, studying the thing as it scratches the ground with huge clawed feet. The sides areclosely packed branches from a strange sort of thin wood I can’t identify. Every time the thing turns in a circle—like a dog trying to find a place to sleep—another feather floats free of the thatching. A tiny chimney stack puffs smoke from somewhere within the feathers. And strangely, dancing around the house’s huge feet are creatures I recognize: a rogue pack of those horrid goat-footed chickens the wizard kept as his watch dogs. They dodge and weave around the legs and circle the beast almost like they’re playing. My hand immediately runs over the small round scars that still dot my arm from when they attacked me as I tried to escape the wizard’s yard so many months ago.
    This is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Considering I was once friends with a monster-girl, that’s saying a lot.
    But the question remains: Where is Hans? Realization dawns. He must be inside that ridiculous moving house.
    How on earth will I get inside? Even as I think it, a plan begins to form in my mind.
    The house moves in a pattern, a figure eight that brings it close to the edges of the woods, then back to the center, the goat-chickens trailing after. When it makes its next circuit, I run for the trees on that side of the glade and scramble up the one closest to the edge. The first time it comes around, it’s still too far for me to make the jump. But the second time, I’m better prepared and I throw myself onto the odd roof.
    I hit it hard and begin to slide. My fingers scrabble for a hold and I manage to halt my descent. I pull myself into asitting position and consider my options. The house steadily moves in its figure eight, almost as though it’s waiting for something. I peer cautiously over each edge. On one side is a door into the house and a rim about a foot wide. If I miss, it’s at least a twenty-foot drop to the ground.
    I prepare to lower myself over the edge. This is for Hans, and that means any risk is worth it.
    I let go and drop to the rim. And promptly slip right off.
    My pack catches on a piece of the odd wood connecting the house to the legs, and it forces the air from my lungs painfully. But it’s better than hitting the ground that looms under me. If I fall near those