“Cat stirred. There was something soft underneath her, but it was so cold. The shivering began, great waves of it passing through her, and when she sought to open her eyes and push herself up, she discovered two things. One was that it made no difference whether her eyelids were open or closed. The dark was complete, phantom-traceries of colors she could not name bursting as she blinked. She could feel the lids closing and opening; her eyes were so dry they scraped. Perhaps she was blind? Dear G...od, no. The other thing was silence. She could hear her own heartbeat, and a sliding sound when she moved, her riding habit rasping across some other cloth. There was no thunder, no lightning. What happened? She had been riding; she remembered that much. Across the flats, the black mare giving a good account of herself. Then, confusion. Something had happened—a figure cut from black paper rising up, a geyser of earth spewing heavenward, concussive blasts of lightning and an immense sound tumbling her from the saddle.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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