The Wolf Queen by Sam Hall EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Sam Hall
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal Werewolves & Shifters Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
I was having a nightmare.
I had them so often now that it was hard to remember which I had while
awake, and which came to me in sleep. I looked about me and all around
was an endless, desolate forest. The leaves had all fallen and crunched
under my feet as I walked deeper; the empty branches above me stark and
black, raking the grey skies. And the clouds, they loomed, grey and
swollen, making me shiver with a sense of foreboding as they hung over my
head like an executioner’s axe.
“Mother…?” I said, in a small voice, one which I rarely allowed myself
to use. The dead forest swallowed the sound and answered back with the
breeze rustling through dried leaves, coupled with the skitter of hidden
lizard feet. “Maiden…?”
I restricted my prayers to the two more genial forms of the triple
goddess.
But they didn’t answer.
A harsh caw had my head whipping up and the whirr of wings alerted
me to the fact I wasn’t here alone. Ravens came to land on the branches in a
great flock, those ebony eyes shining as they watched me walk.
“Mother…?” I was pleading now. “Maiden…!”
Crone.
The Morrigan’s voice was both the sound of a sword’s blade sharpening
on a whetstone, and the wet slice of it through flesh and blood.
“Mother!” I shouted, wanting to drown out that voice; but how did you
do that when it was inside your own head? “Maiden!”
They were not who I would have cried out to for help in my waking life,
and that was how I knew it was a dream. Instead, I was forced to do
something that my non-dreaming self would find nonsensical: to passively
watch, with a growing sense of horror while the ravens flapped their wings
and cawed, as she landed.
The golden sheen of her feathers let me know who’d joined us, but if
that wasn’t enough, there was this: the golden-headed raven clacked its
beak as it stared at me and then said the word.
Crone.
“Moth—!”
Crone.
“Maid—!”
Crone. Morrigan.
Then I heard her low laughter, saw her focus shifting down my body.
My gaze followed the path of hers, and what I saw had me stumbling
backwards. Blood covered my hands, and when I slapped them down on my
dress, more spread. I realised with horror that, beyond what was on me,
blood also bloomed from deep within, seeping free with that ponderous
dripping feeling of a woman’s moon time, and more besides.
I clutched at my stomach, feeling the searing pain that came, but it was
nothing compared to that which stabbed at my heart. I had sliced off my
hair with a knife; I had watched Nordred be burned on his pyre; I had seen
the Reavers swarming up the walls of Snowmere like rats in a wheat silo.
And now I saw this.
My unborn child dying.
They’d told me I needed to be a mother to my chosen people, but to do
that I’d had to lose the baby that grew within me.
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