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Chapter 40- Finn's childhood
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.
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The Chronicles of Wolves and Fire Chapter 41- Finn
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
The Chronicles of Wolves and Fire Chapter 42- Pearl's cabin
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
The Chronicles of Wolves and Fire Chapter 43- Kain
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
The Chronicles of Wolves and Fire Chapter 44- Camellana and Kain
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
The Chronicles of Wolves and Fire Chapter 45- Matilda's tale
"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
The Chronicles of Wolves and Fire Chapter 46- Countess Matilda
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
The Chronicles of Wolves and Fire Chapter 47- Countess Matilda and Norman
The countess recited with a smirking dimple to her ruddy cheek that misled she was well conscious of the spell she cast. "So what do you desire of me, Norman?""My boss believes my painting of you may be of interest to our art enthusiasts in the North, madam.""Ah, Knight Ambrose? I cannot fathom why he should be interested in me; I am, after all, just an ordinary far. Did he send you to spy on me? You won't get anything from me other than a boring mint tea, those rumours were really ridiculous. I am just a maiden waiting for her knight in shining armour. I have led a simple life, albeit for a very long time. What do you need to know?"Norman nodded in agreement; this maiden seemed to be hopeless and naive, a damsel in distress indeed. He swallowed a lamp and smiled. A glamorous and desirable damsel, he thought. But he has a job, and he might as well kill two birds with one stone. He rummaged out his wax tablet; a piece of parchment paper waxed and tied together into a bundle, forming
The Chronicles of Wolves and Fire Chapter 48- Matilda's passion
"Do you know, young man," Matilda mumbled to her statues. "I stopped socialising when I was fifteen years old. I am as much a statue as these promising specimens, do you not think? A lovely art of frigid stone."Norman gazed at her, saying, "Madam, you are very much alive. We can only make a replica of life with my art. Please continue completely still." He let a frown cross her cheek before emptying his brush, carefully measuring it, and letting his hands do the rest. "I am a talented artist, madam, and I will do you justice. My talent is as a weaver, with concepts as my thread, for they need such careful stitching to reach the right levels of healthiness. So I will make the very best clothing I can for you, blankets and warm hats, gloves, and a shawl. I hope you learn how to make them too, that you become masters of greater heights than I, for then I can rest easy with our craft in safe hands." As poetically as he could, he added. Glancing at the beauty of
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