Read Sharon Schulze for Free Online

Rannulf, from her home and all she held dear…. Did these intrepid women give up? Nay—they remained strong, did whatever necessary to help themselves.
    At the least, she could wait patiently for however long she must.
    And in the meantime, she’d try again to work her way out. She’d one useful arm, hadn’t she? What more could she need than that?
    Despite her resolve, however, tears streamed down her face, startling her with their warmth. ’Twas such a contrast to the utter cold suffusing her from head to toe that it made her shudder more violently. Sweet Mary, how the slightest movement hurt…but she refused to give in to the pain. She’d withstood it till now, she could not let it overwhelm her.
    Seeking distraction, she concentrated instead on her surroundings as she carefully worked her arm about in the narrow space enclosing her. ’Twas impossible to move anything much out of the way, but by dint of gritting her teeth against the pain and pressing her arm against the dense jumble of branches, she was able to increase the space around her.
    ’Twas still not much room, barely enough to shift so that her head rested higher than her feet and she could almost pull herself into a half-sitting position. Nonetheless, the simple fact that she’d made this much progress inspired her to keep at it in spite of the pain.
    Alys had no idea how much time had passed, but it appeared the storm had finally begun to fade, the rumbles of thunder more distant and farther apart, the rain lessened from a pounding torrent to a soft, pattering shower.
    Other sounds rose to replace the storm’s fury. Boughscreaked and snapped as they were moved about, debris crunched beneath booted feet. Voices wove through the sounds; though she could not clearly understand the words, the mere sound of them—the sense of resolve they conveyed—lent her strength, gave her faith that this ordeal would soon be over.
    Lightning flashed yet again, however, followed almost at once by the deep boom of thunder and a series of sharp cracks as wood splintered. She stopped moving and held her breath for a moment to listen as the sounds faded away, lips moving rapidly in a near-silent prayer. Thankfully she heard no panicked cries of pain, nor the crash of more trees coming down close by.
    The rumbling had barely ended, however, before she realized the lightning had filled her timbered prison with a brief, eerie glow so bright she was able to briefly distinguish individual branches piled overhead.
    Anticipation flared higher—there had to be less debris piled atop her than before, if she could see so well!
    Who would she find there, she wondered, once the rubble had been cleared away and she’d been pulled from the pile? Were there others trapped as well, or injured?
    Was Marie all right? Though she could not distinguish individual voices, what she could hear sounded nothing like a woman’s higher tone.
    Which could mean nothing more than that the men had already settled the maid someplace safe.
    And what of Padrig? He’d been riding at the head of the column…had he been the first to fall?
    Abruptly on the verge of panic, Alys caught her breath, disgusted by her weakness. What was wrong with her? By the Virgin, had she grown maudlin from lying here so long?
    No more! Calling herself a fool, she closed her eyes for a moment and prayed that all their party had escaped the storm’s wrath unharmed…that she’d find within herself the will to do whatever she must.
    Calmer now, her strength of will restored, she opened her eyes, clenched her teeth against the renewed pain and resumed her task. Though she tugged and pulled with all her might, one-handed, in so little space, she could make little additional headway into the thickly packed tangle of limbs along her side. Nigh growling with frustration, she shifted to lie flat on her back and thrust her left hand up into the thick mass overhead.
    All of a sudden the entire mound above her shifted and