Page 13 of The Fated Hunter Wolf
Stay away, I projected, finding her consciousness focused on a successful kill two miles northeast.Whatever you sense, don’t investigate. Stay hidden until I give the all-clear.
Her confusion rippled back to me, but she’d obey. She always did when I used that tone.
“What a charming little cottage,” a voice called from outside. Female, cultured, with an accent that placed her nowhere I couldidentify. “Such rustic appeal. Really captures that ‘hermit chic’ aesthetic.”
I moved toward the window, but before I could peer through the gap, she spoke again.
“Love the foundation work. Built to last through all kinds of weather.” A pause. “All kinds of visitors.”
The casual observation made my blood freeze. She was evaluating my defenses.
“This is private property,” I shouted with a warning I hoped would turn her the other way.
“Oh, I’m certain it is. Wonderfully private. So private that most people would never think to look for anything important here.” Footsteps circled the hut with measured precision. “Clever, really. Though perhaps not as permanent as you’d hoped.”
My stomach dropped.
“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” I said.
“Selling? Oh, child, I’m not here to sell anything. I’m here to admire your handiwork.” I saw her silhouette pause directly in front of my door. “May I come in? I promise I don’t bite.”
The lie was so obvious it almost made me laugh. I pressed my back against the far wall and let silver magic build around my hands until the air itself hummed with potential violence.
“Thanks, but I don’t receive guests.”
“Such a pity. I’ve traveled so far to meet you.”
That’s when I caught her scent through the wooden walls.
Death. Stale and unclean. Magic that had been twisted, layered with power that left marks on everything it touched.
And underneath it all, something that made my Crux heritage pause.
Her intentions are entirely unreadable.
“I think you should leave,” I said.
“Should I? We have so much to discuss.” The door latch clicked, though I’d secured it with both a physical lock and a silver ward. “About family. About choices. About the interesting people who’ve been asking questions.”
The door swung open on its hinges, which shouldn’t have moved.
She was smaller than her voice suggested—not even reaching my shoulders—but presence radiated from her in waves that made my wolf whimper and retreat. Gray hair hung in braids decorated with objects that clinked and chimed with each movement. Bones, maybe.
Her cloak seemed to shift colors in the dim light, and when she smiled, her teeth were gray and slightly too sharp for comfort.
“There you are,” she said pleasantly, stepping into my home without invitation. “Even more interesting than I’d been told.”
She moved through my space with casual familiarity, examining my few possessions with the air of someone conducting an inventory. Her long fingers trailed across makeshift shelves, lingered on the tools I used for Crux work, paused at the small altar where I honored the Shadow Moon Goddess.
“Ah yes,” she observed, noting the specific arrangement of stones and silver implements. “Such interesting bloodwork you carry. Such unique heritage. You’d be a wonder in one of those DNA tests.”
My wolf snarled, recognizing the threat.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“Most of your kind call me Mariyah.” She settled into my single chair without invitation, arranging her robes with theatrical precision. “And you, child, are exactly as fascinating as advertised.”
“Advertised by whom?”
