A Dowry of Snails and Mud by Brittany Tucker EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Brittany Tucker
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
“On the subject of mollusks.”
I hate snails. That’s the sum of it.
They’re awful, gritty, gummy, invasive pests.
I plucked a particularly obese specimen out of the mud, rolling it between
my fingertips. How would it feel to crush it, to let the shell crack beneath my
chipped nails? Do they pop like ripe plums, or melt like slugs? Questions for
later.
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Instead of committing a murder, I tossed the defenseless creature into my
bucket with a sigh, sending it to join the doomed fate of its brothers and
sisters. I glared up at the sky. It had always done a tremendous job of
matching my mood, and today wasn’t the exception—gray, bland, and a wee
bit testy.
Ice cold raindrops fell, seemingly at random, but somehow still managed
to strike the tip of my nose. At this point, the weather hadn’t convinced me of
its neutrality.
“You shouldn’t scowl at them.” My twin brother, Drystan, picked through
a patch of reeds. For a moment, I wondered if he meant my aerial attackers or
the snails. He sniffed. “It’s not polite.”
I arched a brow. Drystan grinned at me, his golden-blonde hair, and dark,
blue eyes the same color as mine. I snatched a snail from my bucket and
chucked it at him. “Is this polite?” A second snail went airborne. “How about
this?”
Drystan caught the projectile vermin, then pouted as he cupped them in
his palm, stroking their spiral shells. “Your misery isn’t their fault. Leave
them be.”
“They’re getting eaten either way. Manners won’t save them.”
Drystan huffed. “Roasted or not, Rhia, you should be kind to your
subjects.” His shoulders slumped. “But I guess—by the end of tomorrow—
we’ll all be your subjects, won’t we?”
I stood, ignoring the creak in my lower back, nausea rolling through my
insides.
Subjects. I’ll have subjects, responsibilities. I’ll have a husb—
I shook my head to chase the thought away. Not now. Not today. I turned
to my brother, forcing a fake smile. “Let’s get these back to Papa. I’ve had
enough of wading around in this slop.”
Drystan nodded and followed me out of the mudflats—a two-acre flat
chunk of land on the outskirts of my village, infested with the round, crunchy
critters. We used to farm potatoes in the flats, but with all the rain in the last
few years, the ground had congealed into an algae-filled swamp—no more
potatoes.
The lush, beautiful Wentwood forest surrounded the fields, calling to me
as we walked, whispering that I should find out just how deep its rabbit holes
could go. I ached to feel the bark of oak and ash, to smell the ferns curling
out of the earth. I could escape. Just keep running until a less burdensome life
found me, or I disappeared completely. I wasn’t sure which sounded better.
But the forests weren’t safe anymore, and we couldn’t hunt. Not when
invaders loomed just beneath the shadows of the canopy, and they’d stolen all
our weapons. I’d put arrows through their eyes if we had any, but arrowheads
require steel, and steel required money.
We didn’t have either.
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