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Back Timberdark Save as PDF
Chapters (44)
  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Dedication
  4. Praise for Wranglestone
  5. Epigraph
  6. Map
  7. Part I
  8. Prologue
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. Part II
  18. 9
  19. 10
  20. 11
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. Part III
  37. 27
  38. 28
  39. 29
  40. 30
  41. 31
  42. 5 Years Later
  43. Acknowledgements
  44. About the Author

He was so close he could smell Cooper’s scent now. And it was so sweet and familiar that his heart ached to find something it recognized so deeply. But it was the only thing. Everything else held danger. Those hard hands, like the blades of a paddle that had held him so tenderly, were no longer his. That beautiful face that knew only their kisses, was no longer his. Peter shuffled forward and Cooper’s name broke across his lips.

“Cooper,” he called. “Cooper, don’t.”

But Cooper was completely unmoved by Peter’s voice. An appalling amount of drool poured from his lips. The chest started to heave in quick succession and his breathing accelerated.

Panting. Panting. Panting. Panting.

Peter stepped forward. “Stop it.”

Panting. Panting.

“Please, Cooper. Stop it.”

Panting. Panting. Panting. Panting. Panting.

“I said, stop it!”

Enough. Peter reached out, clasping Cooper by the shoulder. But something other than Cooper struck back. There was a sudden convulsion. Abrupt. Violent. Like every blood cell had come rushing to the surface of Cooper’s flesh to expel the sudden intrusion.

Cooper struck Peter.

Peter tumbled backwards striking first the shelving, then the floor. Tin cans tumbled. A bottle smashed. He tucked his knees up under his chin making himself as small as he could and braced both hands across his head. The thought of looking up to see Cooper standing over him with those dark eyes all bottomless and unseeing was unbearable. And he should run. Peter scrambled to his feet, bolting back down the aisle. He didn’t look back. He didn’t dare. The double doors flung open and he ran back inside the flurrying snow.

13

The blizzard came in from every direction. Peter leaned into the wind, holding his hand up to shield his face, and staggered on to the lot. But the air was so thick with pummelling snow, it smothered any features that could guide him back through, and soon the cars and all the shopping trolleys vanished inside the white and he had no way of knowing which way was forward and which was back.

He staggered on. He stopped. He yanked the hood of his parka up over his head, swiping snowflakes from his eyelashes and waited for the silhouette of a car or building to give up its location. There was nothing. But the darker skies must’ve activated the streetlamps across town. A tiny light appeared in the distance, pulsing from inside the snow like a fallen star. Peter recognized it as being one of the streetlamps at the end of Mainstreet and was about to set off towards it when something heavy landed with a thud directly in front of him.