The Witches of Merribay (The Seaforth Chronicles) Read Online Free PDF Page B

which was at a lake in New Hampshire . As children, Father, Zinnia, and I used to go fishing around the lake in a tiny boat, looking for turtles and other wildlife. We would have sat there for hours if it weren't for Zinnia's complaints of it being too hot, with too many mosquitos. She also complained that the tuna fish sandwiches were too soggy, and her butt was starting to hurt from the hard seat. It never ended.
    Sometimes she stayed at home or went out with friends, and I had peace . Father and I would sit in the boat for hours, going from one shore to the next.
    I could have almost fallen asleep —almost. If I had been anywhere else, maybe…but then I heard something that made blood chill. I had a sense of foreboding fall over me like a stack of bricks. I wanted to get up and run but, paralyzed with fear, I couldn't move my legs. I hugged the box of muffins and doughnuts close to my chest.
    And there i t was again. A cross between a growl, howl, and bark. What in the heck was that?
    So, it was true; Ian had sent me forth into the woods to be eaten by the wolves, coyotes, bears, and who knows what else. Some beast just sounded out in the woods, and I had to force myself to move.
    Perhaps I could crawl into the gap in the tree, or even climb the tree . As I sat thinking of a way to escape, I just got up and ran, tossing the box aside. I ran down the path instead of back to Ian's house. For all I knew, he wouldn't let me back through the gate. Could I find Gran's house from here? 
    I didn't know , but as all these thoughts ran through my mind, I heard the beastly growl behind me, then raucous barking. Not looking back, I ran like my shorts were on fire.
    However, it wasn't fast enough , and before I could take my ne xt breath, I felt huge paws slam into my back, knocking me on the ground face-first. And then they were gone.
    “Milo, Hansgard, shame on you ,” someone said.
    After a few seconds, and when I was sure they weren't going to kill me, I turned to see a boy about my age with shoulder-length blond hair and the eyes of a superstar, standing by two huge—and I mean huge—pure white dogs. I thought I saw blood upon their ears, but no; as I sat up I could see that it was the color of their ears.
    “I'm sorry for their behavior . They did not mean to harm you. That's just the way of it. They are rough but they play,” said the boy. He had an accent, but I couldn't tell where it was from.
    I couldn't speak , and I still had dirt on my face and in my mouth. I looked him up and down. He had on green-gray colored shorts and a brown tank top. And he was barefoot. I think I had just met my first hobo.
    He e xtended his hand, and I took it; he pulled me up.
    Releasing his hand, I said, “Thanks, I think.” I wiped the dirt from my face and spit on the ground.
    He was much taller than me, and I had to look up to meet his eyes.
    “What the heck are those dog things? They are monsters.” I suddenly felt bad for saying that since they appeared to obey him and sat still , watching me with innocent eyes.
    “Monsters, no . ‘Hell hounds’ would be their proper name. But they are good, and loyal to their owner until their last breath.”
    “And that would be you, I take it?”
    “No. Izadora.”
    “Izadora?  You know her?” I asked.
    “Come now, let me rinse the cut on your leg.”
    I had forgotten about my leg and the small gash from the branch.
    He studied me for a few moments, looking at me disapprovingly. What was his problem?
    He pulled out a silver canteen from a bag on his left shoulder which also contained arrows . On his other shoulder, there was a silver bow with green scrolls of ivy. The bow was about the length of my arm.
    “Do a lot of hunting, do you?” I asked.
    He followed my gaze to the bow and said, “Always.”
    “What do you hunt? Fox? Deer?”
    “Not animals, usually.”
    “Are you one of those hobos that Ian was talking about?”
    “Hobos?” He laughed.
    “Yes, do you wander the