richellemead-vampireacademy01-vampireacademy-110824015328-phpapp02

We hadn't gone very far when I heard something moving again, and someone stepped out into
our path. "Ladies.”
Ms. Karp.
We froze, and whatever quick reactions I'd shown back by the marsh disappeared as I delayed a
few moments in hiding the bottle behind my back.
A half-smile crossed her face, and she held out her hand.
Sheepishly, I gave the bottle to her, and she tucked it under her arm. She turned without another
word, and we followed, knowing there would be consequences to deal with.
"You think no one notices when half a class is gone?" she asked after a little while.
"Half a class?”
"A few of you apparently chose today to skip. Must be the nice weather. Spring fever.”
Lissa and I trudged along. I'd never been comfortable around Ms. Karp since the time she'd
healed my hands. Her weird, paranoid behavior had taken on a strange quality to me—a lot
stranger than before. Scary, even. And lately I couldn't look at her without seeing those marks
by her forehead. Her deep red hair usually covered them but not always. Sometimes there were
new marks; sometimes the old ones faded to nothing.
A weird fluttering noise sounded to my right. We all stopped.
"One of your classmates, I imagine," murmured Ms. Karp, turning toward the sound.
But when we reached the spot, we found a large black bird lying on the on the ground. Birds—
and most animals—didn't do anything for me, but even I had to admire its sleek feathers and
fierce beak. It could probably peck someone's eyes out in thirty seconds—if it weren't
obviously dying. With a last, halfhearted shake, the bird finally went still.
"What is that? Is it a crow?" I asked.
"Too big," said Ms. Karp. "It's a raven.”