The Light-Bearer's Daughter by O.R. Melling

Please .
    When she reached the summit, her heart plummeted. Nothing but rock and coarse heather. She was alone and defenseless against an unknown predator.

 
    here were a few moments when Dana lost all control. She ran in frenzied circles, like a terrified toddler. A monster’s coming after me! A monster’s coming after me! She didn’t scream, but only because her fist was jammed into her mouth. Then she drew up abruptly. Forced herself to think. What can I do? Where can I hide? The grassy summit was pocked with outcrops of rock and several small cairns. Searching quickly through them, Dana found a narrow opening overgrown with heather. There was enough room inside. Crawling backward to allow herself to see out, she did her best not to disturb the heather that provided some cover. In each fist she clenched a sharp stone. If cornered, she was prepared to fight like a wildcat.
    The wait was harrowing. She was cramped and wet, shivering with cold and fear. Breath held, stomach knotted, she peered through the greenery, dreading what might come. Footsteps approached. Slow and heavy. Loose stones were kicked out of the way. Instinctively she cringed, as if to make herself smaller. Then a figure came into view. She nearly gasped out loud.
    Murta!
    In the first moment of relief, so glad to see a familiar face, she almost scrambled from her hiding place. Something stopped her. She remembered the creepy feeling she got whenever he was near. What was he doing there? And wasn’t it too much of a coincidence that he had been at the waterfall too? A sick feeling came over her. What could this mean?
    Murta sniffed the air as he looked around. Was he searching for her? Her mind insisted on a reasonable explanation. She had been missing for almost half a day. Search parties would be combing the mountains. But if he was part of one, why was he alone? And he didn’t look like he was on a rescue mission. He didn’t even have a rucksack.
    Murta’s cell phone rang out, piercing the quiet. He pulled it from his pocket and stared at it a while. Slowly he raised it to his ear.
    “Yeah?… No … I’m … I’ve … got business.”
    Dana shuddered to hear his voice. It sounded strange and sluggish. Now he put away the phone and with a last glance around him, stalked away, disappearing down the western slope.
    She didn’t come out till she was sure he was gone. Her mind was in turmoil. What was going on? Nothing made sense. And what should she do now? She needed to go west, but didn’t want to be seen by him. She would have to take another route. Detour around Scarr. She had just decided to have something to eat and consult her map, when she froze in new horror. There, near the cleft where she had been hiding, something protruded from under a big rock.
    Two legs and feet!
    She screamed.
    A male voice croaked in response from beneath the stone.
    Someone trapped!
    “Are you all right?” she cried. “Are you hurt? Can you move?”
    She started to push frantically against the rock, shouting encouragement. The person underneath had begun to move, twitching his feet and yelling also. She worked all the harder, thinking he was in pain; but when the stone finally rolled over, she discovered he was shouting at her .
    “What in the name of all that’s holly and ivy are ye kickin’ up such a racket for?” he roared.
    Speechless, Dana gaped at the little man. He was yellowy-brown and as wrinkled as an autumn leaf. Both his hair and beard fell in thick knotted strands that curled around his feet like a bird’s nest. His shirt and trousers appeared to be made of brown paper tied with twine, making him look like an abandoned parcel.
    Now footsteps sounded on the western ridge and Murta came into sight. He was breathing heavily, eyes darting around. He seemed bigger, darker, red-faced, and terrifying. His glance passed over the little man, but he jerked back in surprise when he saw Dana. Then a ghastly grimace distorted his features. She knew in