The Fire Sisters (Brilliant Darkness 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

It’s narrower and bumpier than the wide path. Rocks and roots jump in front of my feet, tripping me and twisting my ankles. Even with my hand in Peree’s, I have to slow down. As the group stretches out along the trail, we end up in the back.
    The forest muffles our voices. No one speaks much anyway; we’re all listening for the Sisters and the children now. The forest feels like it’s watching us—I’m glad I’m not alone out here.
    “Peree, can you come up front?” Kai says. “We’re losing the light, and we need to watch for signs of the Sisters. I know how good your eyes are from when we’ve shot together.”
    My eyebrow darts up. It’s not what Kai said—Peree does have good eyesight and probably should be up front—it’s how she said it. She's definitely flirting.
    Peree shifts his hand around mine, but he doesn’t release it.
    “Go ahead,” I say.
    “Come with me?” he whispers.
    “So I can help look for the Sisters?” I joke. “Go. We can’t stay together every second.”
    “Call me if you need me," he says, sounding reluctant. He walks to the front of the group, his pack or bow thumping with each step.
    As soon as he’s gone, my ankle turns on a rock, and I stumble and sigh. Not only can I not watch for the Sisters, I can’t even watch where I’m going. I take a long breath, determined not to get frustrated. I knew this wouldn’t be easy.
    Trouble is, I don’t know an inch of this forest. At home, the paths and walkways, the copses of trees and clearings, and the ebb and flow of the ground were as familiar as the contours of my own body. I avoided most hazards, if not with ease, then at least without a lot of thought.
    Here, every solid tree trunk, low-hanging branch, ankle-biting root, and clawing bush will be lying in wait for me. My prediction? I’ll be sweaty, sore, and bleeding from at least three places in no time.
    I finger Aloe’s cane, trying to remember the long-ago day when she taught me to use one. That was before Rabbit made fun of me for whacking Calli with it by accident, and I refused to touch the thing again.
    Aloe placed both of our hands on the shaft of the cane, sliding and tapping it in front of us. I practice now, sweeping the stick and paying attention to what I can feel and hear with it: the thump when it hits a nearby tree stump, the swishing sound of a clump of vegetation, the push of the ground as it rises and falls in front of me.
    I run into all kinds of problems at first, from dropping the stick to stumbling painfully into missed obstacles, but I start to get the hang of it. And to my surprise, I like it. The stick helps me move faster and gives me unexpected confidence. I might hate depending on it, but I’d detest   relying on other people to guide me the entire time.
    I realize someone is walking beside me now. Amarina, I think, from the light footsteps.
    “It might be easier when we reach the river Restless,” she says. “More open ground there.”
    I smile. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”
    She doesn’t rush to assure me how great I’m doing, like some might. I appreciate compliments when I deserve them, but the number of times I’ve stumbled, tripped, and run into things doesn’t exactly qualify me for a lot of praise. I’m collecting bruises as if they’re things of value. I like Amarina already for her silent honesty.
    “I remember you from when I was in Koolkuna before,” I say. "The garden.” In fact, she still smells of soil and something like sweet basil. Maybe tending the plants is her responsibility when she’s not tracking or hunting. “And didn’t we hang laundry together, too?”
    “You didn’t look like you were very fond of being in the trees.”
    “I wasn’t,” I admit. “I’d rather be tripping around down here than sick to my stomach up there.”
    “I didn’t care for being in the trees when I was a girl, but I learned to appreciate them.”
    I pause to tug the tip of the stick out of