three girls. one world. all hunted.
Fate Will Call
She can’t run. Not any longer.
But she can hide.
She looks around in desperation. A hole-that would have to do.
Frozen hands claw at icy earth in desperation. The wind howls and rages, and she can hear the distant call of hunting horns.
Always coming nearer, nearer, nearer.
She doesn’t want to use it. She hasn’t mastered it.
But it’s the only way.
Skin became fur. Fingers grew claws.
The wolf galloped into the distance.
3 hours later
The men sat around the fire, thawing their frozen bodies. Maids scurried around them with cups of coffee and tea as they talked. Tiny Speerel Inn was a strange place to be those days, half buried in a snowdrift and twenty miles from any town, but it was cozy enough inside, and a great place to keep your business private.
The biggest, a burly man with a thick brown beard covered in icicles and a dark green cloak wrapped tightly around his body, spoke up.
“We’ll have to try again in warmer weather- next Dragon Day, may’aps. The dogs’ll get a better scent with only a few out.” He scratched the head of a large hound, lying almost asleep with the rest of the dogs on an old, patched rug. His fellows nodded in grunts.
A young maid couldn’t help but hear this. Her head perked up immediately. “Who are you hunting? Dragon Day! I-“
“Shut up!” The man roared, as the frightened maid was dragged into the kitchen by her stern-looking mother.
After they left, the stranger added to his friends in an undertone, “And take that as a lesson: none here, or anywhere, are to hear the name Kestrel Burkettie from our mouths.”
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