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Sisters of Samhain
The night settled in like poetry – the gentle songs of crickets and other insects only awakened for the darkness. The glittering stars, too many to count, were beginning to appear in the inky indigo hues of dusk. A calm summer’s breeze filled the air with the sweet smell of flowers. Tonight, the pleasant aroma mingled with another: The alluring scent of a fresh kill filled the air.
The huntress was not interested in the meat she had procured, with the help of two of her favorite beings. In the name of Voxi, other wolves would not go hungry this dark evening. It had required all of their strength, skill, and cunning to take down their prey. Now, the ill-fated deer was dead. Whatever creatures in the world that loved him would be disappointed when he did not return. But it was a victory for the trio of hunters, and Rhiannon savored it. Though it had taken some effort to relieve the corpse of its head, eventually, Rhiannon managed.
In her jaws, she carried the decapitated head of their prey, teeth gripping it just below the base of the spine, which had snapped with such a delightful sound that Rhiannon nearly forgot her own wounds. Two dark, sightless eyes stared into nothingness, mouth still open in the last desperate gasps for breath. The reindeer’s blood splashed her silvery coat like a work of art. She was careful of those wretched, sharp antlers, which dragged in the dust beside the woman as she walked. Judging from the sheer size of them, Rhiannon guessed the unfortunate beast was a few years old, at least. A trail of crimson was left in her wake.
A deep inhale of night air caused the wolfess to cringe, and her side ached, bruised by the hoof of the now deceased deer. There was nothing to be done to help it or cure it, only time would do. But amidst the triumph of a successful hunt, Rhiannon was troubled to see what had happened to Nyx. And so it was she who Rhiannon sought now. After she had walked a short distance, she dropped the head of the reindeer, taking two steps to move beyond it as amethyst eyes searched the deepening darkness for its queen. Her nose tested the breeze for the other’s scent, even more alluring, somehow, than all the flowers and spilled blood. ”Nyx?”