Coil of Boughs (THE UNDERFOREST DUOLOGY #1) by Penny Moss EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Penny Moss
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 5.6 MB
- Price: Free
DEEP IN THE FOREST, the creak of walking trees broke through
persistent silence. Leaves whispered in a rush of movement, branches
cracked, and roots thrashed the earth with each heavy step. The trees soared
high, the hut nestled within the crowns quaint, its occupant far out of reach
and nowhere in sight.
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Ryurikov sucked in an excited breath, hiding behind an ancient oak, his
leather boots scuffing leaf-wilt and twigs as he moved to peer past it. Three
enormous trunks tromped past, roots and boughs swaying. He broke into a
run after them.
A swish, the noise peeling his eyes wide open. An arrow, narrowly
missing his head to penetrate the bark of a tree-leg ahead of him. Ryurikov
jumped, arms extended, and grabbed hold of a branch. He spluttered against
sprinklings of grime as he climbed, his cloak fluttering and legs kicking
with each of the trunk’s forward steps, robbing him of his support.
Another swish, followed by a sharp pain in his calf.
“FUCK!”
He hoisted himself further up, ignoring the arrow now in his leg as best
he could, grasping roots and branches until he reached the canopy, vibrant
green shrouding the hut’s underbelly. Fierce winds whipped his hood off his
head, copper locks flitting about while he balanced on a bough and glanced
down.
The gang of enforcers who had chased him into the forest were now at
the hut’s heel, their gaudy yellow and crimson attire visible even from such
a height.
Ryurikov grumbled in annoyance. He thought he’d lost them hours ago.
He reached over his shoulder, groping for arrows he no longer had. Well,
fuck.
He continued the ascent, eventually reaching the tree’s crown, where
outgrowth wove into crooked steps. He held on tight to a branch, lichen
crumbling under his leather gloves. Swaying back and forth as the three
trees continued their stride, Ryurikov waited until the odds were a little
more in his favour, then leapt.
His chest collided hard with the bottom of the stairs, hands slapping
across the worn wood before he grabbed hold of a spindle and pulled
himself up. Heavily, he leaned on the wooden balustrade and inspected the
damage to his right leg. The arrow was still there, tip firmly lodged into
flesh. That hurt. A lot.
With clenched teeth, he grasped the shaft in both hands and snapped it
off.
His pained yowl sent birds skyward, the rapid strike of wings echoing. He
watched them, briefly, then pulled the dark green hood back over his head
and adjusted his scarf to hide.
It wouldn’t do for the witch to know his face.
From the scabbard at his hip, Ryurikov eased free a borrowed short
sword, old and ornate, when an otherworldly roar sent more birds aflutter.
The canopy of the tree-legs below him blocked the ground from sight.
Not that he needed to see to know what was down there, likely tearing the
enforcers apart.
Past the treetops in the distance, the sun melted into the horizon,
remnants of blue still streaked across. He better get this over with and
escape before nightfall.
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