Finn felt a surge of satisfaction at the applause but regulated his expression admirably, only tidying up barely. He mastered concealing his true emotions. Life on the street taught him that. He can cope better with people who are in touch with their true emotions yet appear "tough" than with those who have masked their own emotions to themselves yet appear "mild." Stage one of his maturation into his better self is being in touch with his true emotions. Becoming a better person was stage two. Thus, the former were at an advantage and easier to coach. Those who were both honest and mild-mannered are the elite all. "You know of my elite warrior?" were the master's next phrases. "Yes, sir," Finn replied. "What do you know about them, young man?" "Sir, um-hmp that they are your selection brigade for special tasks, sir." In truth, it was all that Finn could speculate about the distinguished party of elite warriors—the most respected among the men—whose midnight expeditions were cocoo
When Finn was given sustenance and a bed in trade for his chores. When reimbursed in silver coin, it was usually meager enough to appease both needs, in which case he spent the fortune on sustenance. True, the "bed" he was given was usually barely permitted to sleep upon aground in a kitchen or stable, but the resort was worse: the thoroughfare.Met with this destiny, Finn would crawl through the alleys and roads, the stench of piss and shite surging from the humid cobblestones, whilst he surveyed the rooftops for a smoking chimney. He would then search for an interrelated veneer fireplace wall against which to curl, hoping for a spot with overhanging eaves to avert the rain, or worse, the storm, and one not under a window out of which a chamber pot might be emptied.
Finn's heart would thump as he faced off against his adversary. When his clenched fists connected with flesh, he was a lad absorbed, his fists lashed out in a blur, his heart roaring with anger as noses and cheekbones crunched under his blows and bodies doubled over to a fist driven into the gut. Only when his enemy lay sobbing and bleeding on the ground was his resentment quenched. No kid had ever been courageous enough to challenge him twice. Barely indeed did it happen that he was the one put to the cobblestones.Although most of these fights occurred in villages, he was not entirely spared in the country. He had defended himself against lads from neighboring farms and even the sons of the farms where he worked, who had taken exception to the presence of this orphan. Then there had been the times when a farmer, in one instance, and a far
Pearl’s cabin She slipped out from beneath the sweet, massive werewolves before dawn even struck the horizon. It only took an hour of her time to run her errands this morning. Once again, Pearl bought a couple pairs of jeans and shirts for the guys, but then, before she headed home, she made one more stop. Her hellhound sauntered toward her as she trailed up the worn path to the front door. "Good morning, little one," Pearl couldn't help but always talk to him like a person. She probably talked to her little hellhound more affectionately than she did other people. His soft fur met her palm as she pushed between his ears, and he hummed an approving sound. The warmth of his body skimmed against her legs as he leaned into her before she slipped inside the cabin. Bright lines of sunlight cast across the old boards, and Ethan lifted his head from the blankets as the door clicked closed behind her. "Pearl, you left?" Confusion lingered in his eyes. "Without me? The whole point of me bei
Ten miles away from Lord Bernie's castleThe tremendous magical feline hurried through the high pastures of the grassland. It kneeled low, muscles tightened, and sensed every noise and scent. Completely large, the size of a man, it wormed forward in the stealth of predatorial technique through the wavy scrub. This remarkable mastery of the kill had already brought long life to the clever hunter. Its mane was great, its musculature was lean and taught, and its paws and shiny teeth protracted and sharp. And it smelled blood.At the end of the grassy area near the stream’s ridge, the daunting feline froze. It saw a gang of varied humans in a clearing, drying and cleaning the carcasses of beast prey hanging from the fences. A gazelle, some vicious beast, and a willow bear dangled enticingly from the low limbs. A banquet for the king of beasts. But the huge lion was not looking at the fresh meat. It peered at the vast figure laying the critters onto a wagon for transport. He was certainly
Kain approached the familiar village's gate and was welcomed by a smiling old woman, whom he assumed to be a high priestess and who looked like the goddess of wisdom with her raven curls and pearly white skin. Kain noticed that she wasn't just a mere faerie. She was also an alchemist. A powerful one. Camella puffed with pride to the new hunter of their village, "Welcome newcomer." "Who are you, young sir?" She asked and watched as he took his prize: meat for everyone for the rest of the week, which this new young hunter provided without complaint. Faith indeed intervened in their famine."My name is Kain of the North, milady.""Welcome Kain of the North!" The crowd cheered again as the elder men helped him with the meat, and some offered their admiration fo
"That's why I was welcome because I brought meat?" Kain asked. "Yes, Kain of the North." "And therein lies your flaw, Camellana," whispered Kain. Camellana sat gloriously in her chair, and Kain was already washed up from the hunt. He stood intimately by her ear. "I know who you really are, Camellana, and even with the massive stone walls you try to achieve to cover the spell, your people need a proper leader, and by that I mean not you. What would happen if they found out that you were Lord Bernie's missing wife? And not just an ordinary healer?" "Smart lad… I like you, Kain." Camella said as she posed motionless so a craftsman could carve a detailed likeness of her face into a clay tablet with Kain while another sculpted his figure. They were celebrating his killing of the two enormous lions by crafting images of him as "hunter of the animals" and savior of her people. Kain's powerful likeness stood mightily in the center of her manor, hands stretched out to grip the throat of a l
Dry Village, Countess Matilda Manor.The beautiful Countess gasped and huddled her feverish palm to the frigid, rippled goblet as she sighed in displeasure. "Such a waste." She murmured.Outside, the dreary sky and rigid plateau melted into a freezing, brisk abode of the damned. As dark a midday as there ever could be. Wharf cottages squeaked and groaned in the distance around her fortress, her castle.Every unoccupied cabin leaned into the wind and hurled like stuck wreckage.Taking her eye away from the windows, she pushed her back to her husband's hips and wedged his stone-cold, solid manhood deeper inside her. She grunted and trembled. Unsatisfied. Being an ancient vampire made her succumb to her dark side. She no longer has the heart and warmth to feel human."My sweet wife is satisfied and happy?" She heard a whisper in the air as the stone-cold statue looked at her in delight. "No," She slipped off his frigid shaft, and rustled down her silky scarlet robe, but would not turn to f