Obsidian Mirror Sampler_Aug12.pdf - Hachette Childrens

The wolf flinched under the blow, eyes burning with
fury. For a second it wasn’t even there, and then she
was free, running and stumbling over the tussocky,
squelching bog.
Soaked, hair plastered to her face, she snatched a look
back. The moorland seemed empty. But the sun had set;
long shadows leaned from rock and tree.
Furious with herself she limped faster. She had to get
away. Because it would come after her and smell out her
trail. And they’d send a Replicant with it.
The moor was so cold! Ice cracked on the surface, and
her shoeless foot was wet through. Her dress clung to her
body and arms. And there was a ringing in her ears, as if
after some huge, silent explosion.
She was shaking with shock, but she was here, she
knew this place, and she knew there was a lane. It should
be ahead somewhere – no more than a track. But when
she crawled through a hedge and slithered down into its
shelter she was surprised at the dark smooth tarmac
surface, hardly broken by weeds.
Ahead was a cottage. From one of the chimneys a
circular white dish sprouted like a mushroom. The
door opened.
Sarah dived sideways, into plants that stung her.
A young woman came out. She had a basket of laundry;
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