Red Wolf (The Echo Series Book 1) Read online

  Red Wolf

  Book One of The Echo Series

  L. J. Windridge

  Copyright © Aug 2022 L. J. Windridge

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are completely fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author except when quoting for reviews.

  Kindle ASIN: B0B5JR95YN

  Paperback ISBN: 9798835776849

  Hardback ISBN: 9798838290397

  Cover design: Amy_Creative / Fiverr

  Cover image: IvaFoto / Shuttershock Inc.

  Fantasy map design: Miss Sajjad / Fiverr

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Imprint: Independently published by L. J. Windridge

  Printed in the United States of America and all participating KDP retailers.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Praise For Author

  Coming Soon

  For Uncle Martyn,

  For always putting family and laughter first

  and teaching us that magic is everywhere,

  even when times are hard. You just have to

  look for the sparkle.

  Love, your little magician xx

  Welcome to

  Faelosergon

  Chapter One

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  “Is anybody there?!”

  My eyes snap open and dart around the confined space I lie within. Bar a thin slice of streaming light creeping under the cracked door, not a single speck of dust can be seen before me. I struggle to lift my pounding head off of the concrete floor. My shoulders feel heavy; as though someone is pushing on them to pin me down.

  THUD! THUD! THUD!

  A cacophonous crack races up my spine. I crash back into the cold, hard ground as a bright light bursts out of my chest and bounces erratically around the compact wooden walls. The most unbearable, excruciating and agonising pain I’ve ever felt stretches across my body like a wildfire. Within two blinks, the light slithers back into my hand and glides up my arm, vanishing instantly; almost as if it were never there at all. But the pain still lingers.

  What happened to me?!

  THUMP!

  Where am I?!

  THUMP!

  I wish they would stop kicking the door! My head is killing me…

  “I know you’re in there!” calls a muffled voice.

  “Please let us in,” another man pleads, “we’re here to help!”

  I pat the walls on either side of me. My hands slip to find two juts of wood sticking out of place. I gather what little strength I have left and use them to drag myself back up to my sore feet. I try my best to ignore the paralysing pain threatening to freeze my legs in place. An electric spark spasms up my leg. My hands falter and I tumble to the floor. An ear-piercing scream tears through my lips, providing me with my only source of comfort.

  “On three!” the deepest voice orders. “One... Two... Three!”

  The door crashes down inches away from my fragile feet. Sunlight bursts into the empty space seconds before three figures loom over me. Two men with bare chests rush to my side to assess the damage while the third, a teenage boy, remains frozen in the doorway. While both men kneel on either side of me, the teenager’s ocean eyes are aghast at the bloody sight of me.

  “Don’t worry, Miss, just try not to say anything.” The small, shaggy-haired one holds me steady.

  “We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.” His large, bald, burly counterpart scans my body from head to toe.

  Once the two are satisfied with the stability of my wounds, the larger one heaves my arm over his bare shoulder and hoists me up. I know he’s trying to be gentle, but it feels like he’s ramming me out of the narrow doorway like a careless package!

  Before I have the chance to utter any of the many spiralling questions in my mind, the sensation of an unsteady sinking ship swamps me. The teenager’s sympathetic gaze becomes a dizzying blur as a knot churns deep in my core.

  Why are they all staring at me like that?

  Uh oh.

  A lump rises in my throat. The taste of bile in my mouth makes me cringe. I try to swallow; to not let this green feeling overcome me. But it’s not enough to hold it down. Before I can balance myself, my hand flies out and scrapes across the tree trunk. Bits of red, orange, brown, and black flood out of me and splatter across the mossy mud.

  “Whoa, easy there.” The burly man strokes my back as he lays me down against a different tree nearby, being careful to avoid my spew. Once I’m down, he turns to his counterpart and starts barking orders, “Go call for help. We need the police and medics here, stat!” He unzips his rucksack, fumbles around and pries open the first aid kit.

  “On it!” the second says as he bolts into the thick of the forest and disappears out of sight.

  Once the last of the sick has evacuated my empty stomach, I rest my head against the rugged oak tree. Every fibre of my being feels as though I’ve been dragged through a rose bush backwards not once or twice, but several times over. Even my head feels like someone has stabbed a poisonous thorn into my brain over and over and over again.

  Ugh, this is horrible…

  “Here, drink this,” says the teenage boy when he appears at my side. Until now, he’s been watching me with shock. His steady eyes watch mine as he lifts a small flask to my chapped lips. Slowly, he pours the clear water into my mouth. I relish the smooth liquid soothing my sore throat. It feels like the first rainstorm after a long drought.

  God, I’ve missed this.

  “You must have been in there a while,” he says. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “I-” I want to tell him I don’t know, but all that comes out of me is a bunch of coughs and splutters. My throat still feels swollen and hoarse. Every breath I take feels shallow; it’s a struggle to breathe, let alone talk.

  How did I come to be in such an awful state?

  “Shh, save your breath,” he smiles warmly at me. The boy tucks a strand of hair away from my face. His thumb brushes against a scar on my cheek to wipe away tears I didn’t know were falling until now. “You’re okay now. You’re safe with us. We’re not going to let anything hurt you.”

  As I look into his eyes, a warm sense of relief washes over me. The ice-cold fear inside me dissipates into a welcoming sense of tranquillity and peace. I feel myself drawing closer to him as he gazes at me with such delicate care. His eyes
trace the blood on my temple as a worrying frown forms upon his dark brow. He seems to think if he takes all my wounds in too quickly, I’ll break down and shatter right here, right now.

  “Hey,” he hollers at the burly man to our side before turning to face him. They mumble a few incoherent words so deeply and quietly, I’m surprised they can understand one another.

  The teenager’s call for attention awakens energy in me that feels like the temporary buzz you get from drinking a sports drink during an all-night study cram. I use the tree bark to pull myself up and support my back properly before I reach out and take the flask from the boy. I chug down the rest of the water.

  “Someone’s thirsty!” he chuckles as he grabs a damp cloth from the first aid kit and starts cleaning the cuts and bruises framing the side of my face.

  “Yeah, I am,” I smile sheepishly and wipe my soaking lips with the back of my scratched hand.

  Yeah, I am? Is that the best I can do? Wow, I am such a dork! But at least I can talk now. And by talk, I mean speak a couple of words without my throat drying up like sand in the Sahara.

  “How’s your head?” His focus is unwavering; he remains intent on cleaning up the side of my face. There’s something almost mesmerising about the way he gently dabs each and every patch of blood away. His hand feels soft and every time his finger or knuckle brushes against my temple; a small spark awakens within me.

  Damn, why did he have to ask me that?

  The sting in my head sharpens. In the distance, I can hear an ambulance siren grow closer alongside the faint voice of the shaggy-haired man telling the people on the phone to hurry. The trees surrounding us start to sway and turn from side to side. The sun streaming in through the treetops is too bright to bear. I lift my hand to block out the dizzying blur breaking out in front of me.

  “Sore.” My voice barely comes out as a whisper. “W-Who are you? Where am I?”

  “Don’t worry about me right now.” He places the back of his hand on my forehead. “You’re in the Shadow Forest, not far from Clear Peak and Nola.” He quickly lets go and swears under his breath, “ah, you’re burning up! No wonder you’re sore.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” I murmur under my breath. But why am I apologising? It’s not my fault I’m here, in the middle of nowhere, instead of at home with my family, whoever they are. It’s not my fault I’ve got this unbearable migraine that feels like it’s going to burst out of me at any moment! “I just want to go home.” Wherever home is…

  “I bet,” he gives me a reassuring smile, “but unfortunately, you’re going to have to wait a while. We’re getting you to the hospital as soon as the ambulance gets here. Think you can wait that long?”

  “I-I think so…” his smile is infectious. I can’t help but smile back like it is only me and him here. Even when his chestnut hair falls across his eyes, he ignores the strands and continues to drain the pus and blood from skin and cloth. “A-Are you a medical intern or something?”

  “Oh, god, no!” He lets out a hearty laugh. “My uncle taught me when I was a kid. He always said: ‘if you can’t fix your own wounds when you fall from the treetops, then you have no business climbing a tree. I’m not always gonna be there to fix you up.’”

  “Were you always climbing trees as a kid?” I notice the glimmer in his eyes as he recalls his uncle’s quote from memory.

  “Eh, not always,” he shrugs. Every time the boy speaks, my heart flutters. “but I always found something to climb. Especially if it meant driving him up the wall. Did you ever drive your parents up the wall?”

  “I-I don’t know…” The realisation dawns on me. I don’t know if I drove my parents crazy. I don’t even know the last thing I ate. I have no idea how I ended up here, in the middle of nowhere, and I don’t even remember my blasted name!

  What’s wrong with me?

  Even though I’m resting against the oak tree, my knees buckle beneath me. Another lump forms in my throat, this time preventing me from gasping for some much-needed air. The trees race around me in a frenzied flurry, merging and blending themselves with the shack and plant life around us.

  “Are you getting dizzy?” His eyes narrow as he studies my face. My vision blurs, making it difficult to see all the freckles that are speckled across his cute nose. I barely manage a nod. “Alright, just try to focus on me. Ignore everything else around us.”

  But that’s easier said than done. It’s as if I’m on a slide at a children’s playground. I’m gradually slipping away; the feel of the mud beneath my feet, the breeze against my hair and blood against my cut lips all fade. The sensations retreat inside of me the same moment the sinking ship returns to swamp my insides.

  “Whoa, come on now,” he says as he struggles to regain the hold of my attention. The boy slips his hand behind my head and brushes more hair out of my face. “You need to stay awake.”

  “I can’t…” I gasp, letting my head loll into his sturdy hands. Man, they feel so strong…

  “No, no, no, no!” I hear the rising hysteria in his voice. Only the thump alerts me to the damp cloth dropping into my lap. His hand reaches to support my neck from the other side. “Come on, stay with me. Please!”

  But there’s nothing he can do.

  It’s as if a switch goes off inside me. Every tendril within me, every cell of my core, and every bone in my body suddenly calms to a soft yet soothing hum. While his magnificent eyes fade from view, my own droop gently shut. The ringing in my ears grows louder and louder; drowning out all sounds surrounding me.

  Everything fades to black as the question I’ve been longing for the answer to escapes the lips of the boy before me, “who is she?”

  Chapter Two

  Water trickles in the distance; pulling me from a far more serene sleep compared to my last. I gasp to let in the fresh smell of chlorine and lavender. The distant ambulance sirens draw closer as I regain feeling in my fatigued fingertips and tired bones. I love the smooth texture of the soft cotton sheets that are laying on my lap.

  “Welcome back!” My eyes flutter open and flurry around the private hospital suite. “We didn’t think you’d return to the conscious world so soon.” I find the occupied chair beside me where a woman in white stares back at me with her jade green eyes. “How do you feel?”

  How do I feel?

  My fingertips rise to brush my temple, but something white flashes in my peripheral vision. I drop my hand back to my lap. IV fluids catch the light again as they glide down the clear tubes and disappear into the protruding veins popping out of my wrist. No longer are there any visible signs of bruises or blood; no signs of the struggle I faced to break out of that shack.

  Where are the rest of my injuries? Surely it hasn’t been that long since the shack, has it?

  I reach over to pull the tape off the tube, but once again, something pulls me back; a sling that encases almost the entirety of my left arm. But that can’t be all I have to show for it! I grasp the thin pink blanket and shove it off to the side. There it is. The spark I felt earlier must have broken my leg. That is, if it wasn’t broken already. Yet, despite the restrictions, “I feel fine.”

  “Are you not in pain anymore?” the woman’s brow quivers as she continues to watch me.

  “Considering I woke up with a massive migraine a few hours ago, I feel pretty good now. So no, I’m not in pain anymore.” My voice! It’s back! And it’s somehow smooth but oh so clear! “Why?”

  “He said you were in pretty awful shape when they found you.” She pauses for a moment before she proceeds, as though she doesn’t know if she should keep talking or not. “I know you’re probably not wanting to answer any of my questions right now, but it’s important that you do, for me, okay?” I bite my lip and nod. “Just to clarify for my notes, are you in any pain right now?”

  “No, I already said I feel fine.” My nails begin to dig into the palms of my hand. Why did she have to ask me for a third time? And not just that, but, “who is he?” Is he the one who found me? “Whe
re is he?” I lean forward to peek out of the glass door. To see if he’s still here. “I want to speak to him.”

  “You don’t need to worry about him right now. He went home a few days ago.” Days? What does she mean a few days? “Please, try to focus on answering these questions for me. Is there anything you can remember right now?”

  Anything?

  “Anything.”

  Can she hear my thoughts? I narrow my eyes at her slender appearance. “I remember waking up to some banging and that guy’s voice.”

  “And before that moment?”

  Other than her pen scraping against paper, the room falls completely silent. It’s easy for me to get lost. Lost in the thoughts of what could have happened to me before I woke up in the middle of the woods a few days ago. Well, lack of thoughts thereof. All my mind and body can muster up is this existential dread I felt the moment that boy snapped me back into this conscious world. Every single experience, thought, and feeling seems to have been wiped clean from a messy slate. My head is nothing but a black void of what’s happened before.

  “There’s nothing,” a hefty huff escapes my lips. My shoulders drop while my fists unclench. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologise, don’t worry.” A faint smile etches onto the edges of her lips. “I still need you to be as clear and honest as you possibly can. You don’t remember who you were with?”

  “No, nothing.” What is with all these questions? Doesn’t she get that I don’t remember anything!

  “Where were you?” The woman leans forward in her chair.

  “I- I don’t know,” I stammer. “W-When I woke up, I remember being pulled out into the woods, but th-that’s it.”

  “Hey, there’s no need to be anxious.” She reaches out to squeeze my hand gently. “These questions are to help us help you. Is it okay if we continue?”

  Ok? I wouldn’t say I’m okay to continue…

  The lights flicker. I pull my hand away as I lie, “I- I guess. How many more are there?”