Fated Moon Wolves
I moved toward the sound, my steps entirely silent against the damp earth.
We found her crouched in the hollow of a rotting oak tree. She couldn't have been older than six. Her clothes were torn, her skin smudged with dirt and dried blood from a nasty gash on her forearm. But it was her magic that caught my attention—it was bleeding out of her in erratic, purple sparks, a desperate defense mechanism from a child who had no idea how to wield it.
I braced myself for Anne to rush forward, but instead, she went perfectly still, her eyes wide as she looked at me. She was waiting to see what the monster would do. She was waiting for me to treat this child like an inconvenience. An obstacle.