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WOLF'S CULT (The Circle of four)

Chapter 4 Hecate's daughter

Word Count: 1292    |    Released on: 25/07/2022

the rise ahead, and Hunt winced as much i

wore black, a strange garb, and immodest enough to leave her arms bare and allow the swell of her breast to rise from th

brow, her touch as cool and soothing as spri

recrystallized. Her eyes were as green

nt filling his head. "Who are you? How did you get into the circle?" He watched as she

olv

etimes l dream of the black wolves, or humans. Sometimes it's the w

r a while with eyes of deep and

is my d

he lightning cont

heated water that was by the corner. "Have it your

filled with lightning, storms by Hecate's daughter. Cool his fever, ease his pain so

naged to prop himself on

tepped to him with the cup. And sitting beside

witch. Ar

"l'm a bloody sorcerer. That cup, the thing it

y, it should cure

hing his nose closed and pouring the brew down his throat. "Men are such babies when the

eakly, though the smell of her, the feel of her was v

east not now." As she gave the wolves a

ong e

u're righ

shifted, so she could lay his head in her lap. And there she stroked his hair, kep

Like how lon

You should get

should I sleep not

e fever. Dawn was a misty shimmer lettin

ircle. lt's throat had been ripped open. Even as he gained his feet to s

ed his palm was healed. Only the scar remained. He flexed his fingers,

en a vision rather than a product of a feve

left so much of itself behind. He swore he could smell

e back strong, he had to make do with a l

said she'd known his face. How strange that somewh

kened earth outside it. He set off at

ntains, and the secret dept of the forest. There were no signs,

years had passed. So he sent his mount on a leap over a l

rrounded by the mountains. He loved the sma

exactly the sort of place she'd imagined living in. He craved the hills,

mother sitting in the parlor, tatting lace

ied sisters in their own cottages, with young Nola in the stables playing with th

er to him, and to a lesser extent, Dave had wanted it so. lt stood near a stream, a ri

of Michrie valley had been made when he was born and

ly shook his head at the question in the man's eyes. He walk

rein the hall, his mother's and her mother's tapestries hu

eft them behind, walked up the st

her chair, her face carried all the weight of her grief,

ther

t, held out her arms to him. "I've lost my young

well too. l have

you wil

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