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"Help me!" Wenda muttered. "It's hunting me! It's coming! It's coming!"
At these words a dark cloud stole over Mara like a shroud and the ill winds of fate and prophecy that only she could feel swept coldly within her soul, but before she could ask Wenda more, ask her what it was that she thought was coming , a voice cut into her thoughts.
‘Bring her in, By the fire.’’ the voice was urging looking up she saw a tall man holding forth the door expectantly, regaining again her composure she nodded , gently scooping up the young hunter insuring to protect her modesty she carried her into the inn, stopping only briefly to look back at the shadows of the trees beyond the green mans gate.
As Stamo called for broth and spirits Mara gentle set Wenda down on the chair closest the fire, as she did the young woman grasped her hand weakly. Then for a moment as Wenda’s fear were mirrored in her own, both women knew and understood each other.
“you saw it , didn’t you?” Wenda whispered hoarsely that only she could hear. Mara hesitated, “I see it in your eyes!” she pressed wearily. Mara nodded, but before she could say any more a warm mug was placed in the trembling hunters hands and Stamo was asking what she could tell them.
Mara stayed beside her both to reassure and to hear what her response would be, for although premonition had allowed her to see that the inn and the village was in danger it had not given that danger shape or form, for that she knew she would need the shape-shifters recount .
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