Outcast (The Darkeningstone Series Book 2) Read Online Free

It would’ve been hard at the best of times, but here, there were no farm buildings or roads to use as landmarks. There weren’t even any phone lines or electricity pylons and they were pretty much everywhere weren’t they?
    I sighed. Just keep walking , I thought. What have I got to lose? Besides, the sun was higher in the sky now and I was sweating already. The shade in the forest would protect me from overheating. I had to go on.
    I made sure the hilltop was directly behind me and walked on. When the first brambles snagged at my jeans, I walked more carefully, picking my feet up higher to avoid them as much as possible. “Bloody things,” I muttered as they snaked around my ankles and caught on my shoelaces. It wasn’t even as though they had any berries on. I licked my lips, thinking of plump, ripe blackberries, almost tasting the sweet juice, imagining the stains on my skin as I grabbed them by the handful. And that was when I fell.
    I hadn’t noticed the thick stem of a tough bramble looping itself around my foot. It brought me to an unexpected halt in mid-stride and I overbalanced. For a split second I realised what was happening and knew I couldn’t stop it, knew I’d land heavily on the tangled mass of sharp thorns. If I put my hands out to save myself, my fingers would be cut to ribbons. I threw myself sideways and managed to half-turn and land on my side, rolling over onto my back. “Bloody hell,” I hissed. I hadn’t accounted for the tools in my backpack, and now, as I landed, they dug sharply into my back, pressing hard against my spine. “Those damned things.” I sat up, wincing at the pain in my back, feeling the pinpricks of thorns through the seat of my jeans. “Damn, bloody, sodding, bloody hell,” I grumbled. “I’ve had enough of this.”
    I sat for a moment, staring furiously at the brambles. What I wouldn’t give for a machete right now , I thought. But I didn’t have anything even remotely like a machete. And I didn’t have any real choice about what to do next. I’d have to get up and I’d have to go on.
    I heaved a sigh and picked myself up, shrugging off my backpack and rubbing at the sore spot in the small of my back. “I’m not putting that bag on again,” I muttered. I held the straps in my hand. I’d carry it like that for a while, so if I fell again, I could just let go of it. And if I did need to get at the tools for some reason, it would be quicker. Why? I asked myself. Why would I need a hammer and chisel? I pushed the thought away.
    I set off again, picking my way more carefully through the brambles, occasionally looking up to get my bearings, and soon I was entering the shade beneath the trees. I stood for a moment and breathed in the cool scents of the forest. The air was deliciously damp and fresh and I took great gulps of it. It cooled my skin and soothed my headache. But it reminded me how thirsty I was. “Oh man,” I whispered. “I really need a drink.” I pictured an ice-cold can of Coke and my throat ached for it. Don’t torture yourself . I ran my tongue over my dry lips and swallowed. It didn’t help.
    “Come on,” I muttered. “Get a grip.” I turned around, looking for a path and listening for the sound of running water. There. A faint whisper. I took a step forward and tilted my head. But the sound faded away. I shook my head. It had only been the shush of a breeze through the treetops. I tutted to myself. I’d have to do better than this. I took a breath and looked around, my eyes already adjusting to the deep shade. The forest wasn’t as dark as I’d first feared, and like the hillside, the forest floor was lush and fertile, carpeted with pale green ferns that grew waist-high. Surely, with all this plant life, there had be water somewhere. And although the undergrowth was dense, it looked harmless enough. “Better than brambles,” I murmured. “Anything’s better than bloody brambles.”
    I walked on, raising my eyes to the leafy