CHAPTER 17
Brygida leaned forward as Matoha flew over the fields and past farmhouses. His speed was both exhilarating and frightening as they sailed over fallen logs and cleared crumbling stone walls without breaking stride. The moon had risen, and it followed her progress.
The mark on her palm throbbed painfully as black mist continued to spill from it, leaving a trail of shadow in her wake.
A scream, neither human nor animal, filled her skull, rattling around inside her until her head pounded as if it would burst and her insides would liquefy. Her grip on Matoha loosened, and she fell from his back, hitting the ground hard.
She rolled onto a patch of grass, but jarred her shoulder and bashed her hip in the fall. The mark on her hand burned, and she clutched at it, writhing in agony a
