His breath momentarily puffed into a cloud of frozen vapor before he stepped forward.
But it was not his physical prowess that drew my attention, but his hands, clenched into fists. It was clear, from his thin hair and rounded middle, that the years had been less kind to this one. It was just close enough to make out the look between Garrick and the man standing directly to his left. The headman and his followers came to a stop a good ten paces away. It was the main reason why Headman Garrick and his men only set foot on Rosewood Manor’s grounds once a month, the day after the full moon, when I would be weakest. He stood a good few inches above the tallest man in the group, but I knew that if I were to stand on my back claws, my stooped form would tower over the village headmen. He possessed the trademark Kelvian coloring: light skin, hair, and eyes, and a large and muscular frame despite having passed into middle age. It was impossible not to recognize the person in the front. My vision cleared just in time for me to make out the glow of torches illuminating angry male faces.
I raised my head, doing my best to ignore the wave of dizziness that followed. With my sensitive ears, I should have been able to detect them long before they had managed to get this close. I paused at the voices carried over by the wind. The pain, the harsh light of morning was too much for my beastly eyes, and the coat of blood on my claws and muzzle was sickening. It was always like this after the full moon. I winced, aware that this would be my reality for the next day or so. I opened my eyes to find the cold, clear light of dawn-faint as it was-was too much for me. My clawshaped wounds opened and bled, staining the cobblestone path that led to the front door of Rosewood Manor. Every small shift brought a fresh wave of agony. Ris I had landed on the rosebush again, the prick of the thorns digging into the thick layer of fur that coated my skin.
0 kommentar(er)
