The naga spits onto the floor of the hut, contempt burning behind her eyes. Pen lets out a sigh and glances over at Loran, “They really don’t seem keen on talking, eh young one?” “Not particularly, but why would they be?”Loran sighs and shakes her head, turning and slithering outside for fresh air. Her breath steams from the chill. The village is covered in a velvety layer of hoarfrost this morning, hiding the blood and muddy hoofprints from the previous night&rsquo

Loran peered over the edge of the cliff, keeping her tail flat against the ground and squinting to hide the glow of her piercing blue eyes. She couldn’t risk the convoy catching wind of her. There were thirteen prisoners, escorted by half as many naga warriors, clad in bronze armor and carrying glinting obsidian spears. Her own weapons were sorely lacking in comparison; a simple yew-and-gutstring bow slung over her shoulder and a quiver of crude flint arrows. Her companions were similarly

Snow was thick on the ground. It covered the fallen leaves of Autumn in a blanket of white. Her movement was muffled. No forest creatures chirped, no insects buzzed. The silence left if Winter’s wake seemed stifling, overbearing, demanding to remain unbroken.When was the last time she’d even spoken words aloud? Days? Longer? There was nobody to talk to, only the silence—and words would only draw attention to her presence. Without venom, she had to be cautious. Unnoticed by pred

Groaning. Gurgling. Soft cracks and hissing. Anki felt like her body was on fire. The walls pressed in tight from all directions. The chyme sloshed higher and higher with each breath. Closer to covering her nostrils. Soon it would all be over. Her skin was sore and red. She could barely feel her hooves. Her fingers didn’t move when she tried to rub the walls. Her mouth was raw and dry. The taste of bile clung to her throat. She wanted to scream—but opening her mouth would hasten the

 Anki awakes disoriented. It’s dark and warm, and a weight presses in around her from every direction. She blinks a few times and gasps, acrid air filling her lungs. Hot slime slides between her legs as she squirms and struggles.  “Shhh. Hey. Relax.” The soothing voice echoes through the walls, slightly muffled but audible and distinguishable as Loran.  “Hey! Gah! Hey! I told you not to eat me!” The faun squirmed and pressed her body against the tight

 Frost. The trees and grass were laced with rime, weighing the branches and crunching under hoof. The cold had struck quickly, coating the world in a white sheen overnight. It was two weeks earlier than the greyhairs had predicted, and their food stores were only barely full. A few days sooner and they would’ve been inadequate.  Anki let out a sigh, white fog billowing from her lips. It had been three weeks since her and Loran’s fateful trip into the forest. The naga h

 The smell of woodsmoke and the flicker of firelight roused Anki. Her head pounded and vision swam. It felt like her whole body was on fire. She whimpered and struggled to sit up.  Soft fingers brushed across her forehead.  “Hey. Shh. Rest.” Loran’s familiar voice coaxed her to slacken her body, “The fever will pass if you don’t exert yourself.”  Anki peered toward the source of the voice. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing her to

Anki woke up with a soft yawn. Her eyes flickered open as she looked up at the ceiling. The soft blue sunlight playing across the woven thatch told her that it was early morning. Most of the village would still be asleep.  She turned over and closed her eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around her. She quickly nodded back to sleep—only to be jarred awake by a tapping coming from her window. The startling sound nearly made her fall into the floor. She directed her gaze toward the