Red Rider RIsing: Book 2 of the Red Rider Saga by D.A. Randall (ebook e reader .txt) 📕

could rise from Mama’s work table and attack us. I kept petting him. “It’s all right. You’re safe with me now. And I won’t let anything hurt you, ever again.”

I continued to smooth his mane and his neck, and he breathed easier. Then he perked up and glanced at the entrance.

Papa stood there within the stable, his hands at his sides. The pipe smoldered silently from his hip. His mustached face was in shadow within the waning light and I couldn’t see his features.

“If you wish to hunt, you must do exactly as I say, without question. You will step where I tell you to step. You will keep silent when I tell you to keep silent. You will shoot when I tell you to shoot. Whatever I tell you to do, you cannot hesitate. Understood?”

I shuddered. “Yes, Papa.”

He stood there, a husky shadow, as if we stood in someone’s tomb. “You’ll rise early tomorrow. As soon as you finish your chores, we’ll head into the woods.”

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The woods. Where the black wolf spoke to me. Where it watched and waited for me as I hurried to Grand’Mere’s house.

“… yes, Papa.”

His shadow nodded, then brought the smoldering pipe to his lips and strode back to the house.

I stood there, frozen. I petted Crimson again, my fingers trembling against him. “You see? I told you. There’s nothing to worry about.

We’re going to learn how to hunt, and then we won’t have to be afraid of anything anymore.”

I laid my head against his, wondering how I would make myself sleep tonight. “Everything’s going to be all right, Crimson, I promise,” I said.

“Tomorrow morning, we’re going back into the woods.”

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MY RISE

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11.

I smiled and patted Crimson’s neck as Papa and Royale led us out of the dark forest. The large buck I had shot scraped through pine needles on the ground behind Royale, tied to his saddle. It was my twelfth deer since we had started hunting over a year ago. Papa kept glancing back at it, beaming.

He said this one was bigger than any animal he had ever killed. Before we mounted the horses to head home, he actually chuckled and clapped me on the back.

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Sunlight glinted through the trees, now in full bloom, their leaves still wet with mist and mountain fog. I closed my eyes a moment. I no longer minded feeling the sun on my triple-scarred face. The long days of summer were just a month away, when we could stay outside longer, riding and hunting. I unfastened the side holster of Crimson’s saddle, which held Papa’s crossbow. He had given me his old weapon from the war to use for hunting, until I was ready to borrow his musket. But I never felt the need to switch.

I loaded a bolt and hung the crossbow’s front end down over my right shoe as we rode. I looped its front strap over my toe and yanked up tight, feeling my firm bicep muscle twitch as I locked the bolt into place.

“What are you doing back there, Helena?”

Papa asked, not bothering to look.

“Keeping myself ready.”

I could hear the smile in his voice, as he relaxed in the saddle and took in the view of the fir and pine trees. He had trained me to stay prepared, to watch for signs of danger, to survive against predators in the forest. He hardly asked me questions anymore while we hunted, but whenever he did, I answered correctly. “Ready for what?” he asked.

“Anything.”

He chuckled again. “Exactly, sweetheart.

Exactly.”

I sat taller in the saddle, enjoying the easy ride home, the gentle breeze on my face, and the sounds of the waking forest. When we had started 103

hunting, every rustling leaf or calling bird made me flinch. I had tripped over my dress several times trying to cross a stream or climb over large rocks. I lost three slippers in the mud before Papa built me a pair