Ruth soaked in every legend, retelling them to herself over and over again until one bled into the next and she could no longer remember which language it was told to her in.ĭespite this, Ruth told Jo she’d imagined it. Ruth and Jo were raised on stories slick with rain and churning water: water horses from Da’s old country, devils ancient as salt on the west wind, and la Llorona, the Weeper of Mamá’s village, the spirit of black rain and lost children. She watched the stallion’s silhouette bleed into the mist. She watched it stare at Jo’s back as Jo walked the path back to the lodge, humming to herself. She’d seen the stallion two weeks ago, standing beyond the fence of the corral at dusk, too still to be a part of this world. Rain pummels the tin roof as she laces them with shaking hands. Ruth stops in the mudroom-barely more than a covered porch at the back of the lodge-and shoves her feet into mud-crusted boots. And she never came back.Īnyone who knows the Crazy Mountains, with its rebellious rivers and sheer valley walls, knows that a day is a long time for a girl to be missing.Īnyone who knows what sort of creatures live in rivers knows a day is far too long. Told her she was seeing things, and refused. When Ruth asked why, Jo said she’d seen an unbranded stallion past the western edge of the corral, a stallion who vanished into the darkness of the pines like a shadow. Yesterday she asked Ruth to go with her to check on the bay yearling with a limp after dark. Her parents drove to Big Timber to talk to the police an hour ago, and won’t be back until late.
#Play escape whisper valley game windows#
She slips out of her parents’ room, past dark, rain-slicked windows and down the stairs, wraithlike as she moves through the lodge. Giving la Virgen a glower of her own, she blows out the candle. Ruth snaps the pistol shut, checks the safety, and shoves it into the pocket of her oilskin. Silver, Da said, was for killing the devils that lurked in the wetlands of the old country. The waxy complexion of la Virgen glowers at her as she clicks the pistol open and checks the chamber with trembling hands.Ī silver bullet gleams in the flickering light of la Virgencita’s flame.
Damp wood scrapes and sticks the flick of the hurricane candle shudders.
#Play escape whisper valley game free#
Ruth slams the drawer shut with her free hand. It was already an heirloom when Da brought it to Montana, when he immigrated from the old country in his youth. Its weight is an old friend, the handle nestling into her palm like it was made for her. Silver as the Devil’s Necklace by Isabel CañasĪ black wail of wind curls around the house, la Llorona’s cold embrace, as Ruth opens the dresser drawer and takes her father’s pistol.
0 kommentar(er)
