Thrown to the Wolves (The Faith in Peril Trilogy) by Holly Newcastle Read Free Book Online Page B

said. “I’m not sleeping here.”
    “But which way do we go?” asked Jacob. “I can’t see a thing.”
    “We just go forward. I’m sure we came this way. We’ll be at the house within ten minutes. We won’t even miss evening prayers.” I strode on ahead, but my foot snagged a branch, nearly throwing me down. “Darn, my eyes! It’s so dark.”
    “Please be careful,” said Anna. “Feel your way, if you must.”
    “I’ll lead.” Jacob brushed by me. “I know where I’m going.”
    I could barely see him. “That’s just rich.” I was thoroughly annoyed. “Molly!” I shouted.
    We managed a single file, wandering in the direction we thought was our home, although I had my doubts. At some point during the walk earlier, before we had spotted the animal carcass, we must have diverged from the straightforward direction we had been traveling in. We had left the path, and I had assumed we followed the way straight, but this must not have been the case. We had curved in one direction or another, enough to throw us off completely. Now that darkness was here, it would be impossible to get our bearings. The dog helped little in this matter, because she was nowhere to be seen.
    Anna began singing, “Jesus Liebt die Kleine Kinder”, which I had learned as a child. Jacob joined her, and I too sang, because the melody brought me a measure of comfort, alleviating some of the dread I felt, although its affects continued to linger.
    Jacob’s voice rang out, “Jesus loves the little children. All the children of the world: Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight; Jesus loves the little children of the world.”
    We tramped on through the darkness, sometimes feeling our way around trees, while our feet crunched over twigs and leaves. Being August, it wasn’t unpleasant, although the humidity had left me perspiring; my underarms felt damp. I enjoyed a walk in nature as much as anyone. Dat would sometimes take us for long hikes on the Sundays when we did not have church, but he had always carried a weapon, a rifle, to use in case of trouble. Mam would pack a lunch, and we would each carry a jug of water, enjoying the peacefulness of the afternoon by the creek. But this was different. We hadn’t brought food or water and we did not have a weapon. We had also lost our dog.
    “MOLLY!” shouted Anna. “Oh, that stupid animal.”
    “That was golly good fun,” said Jacob. “Shall we sing, ‘Ich habe ein Freund?’”
    “You may start it, if you wish,” I said sourly. Something pulled at the bottom of my dress, the material snagging on a prickly bush. I wore stockings, which protected my legs, but my feet had dampened from walking upon wet ground. “I’m thirsty.”
    “Me too,” said Anna. “If we’re going to walk like this, we should try to find water.”
    I laughed bitterly, “And how do you propose we do that?”
    “Listen to it trickling.”
    “All I hear are my own feet.”
    Jacob began to sing, his clear voice ringing out. I joined him then, while Anna remained quiet. I did not know what she thought about, but I could guess. We had wandered into a dangerous predicament, having lost ourselves in the woods. It would take a great deal of prayer to right this situation. She eventually sang as well, her even tone a thing of beauty. I adored listening to Anna. Her voice carried some distance, sounding angelic.
    That stupid dog hears us. I know she does. Where are you, Molly?
    We had gone on for some time before Anna said, “Let’s stop for a rest. I’m tired.”
    “I’m not,” said Jacob. “I could do this all night.” He had thoroughly enjoyed the excursion by the sound of it.
    I stopped walking, placing my hands on my hips. “We can sit for a while.” The moon shone overhead, its diffused light filtering down through the leaves. I made the mistake of looking up, at the way the branches hung, nearly touching us. The knotted, curving boughs took on a sinister quality, as if