Blackfeather Woods feed me

. . .sacrifice, my blood sacrifice. My blood. Home.

Any foreign voice within the forest would have caught her attention, so freshly home, but the words that floated nearby were downright sinister. A laugh followed, and Maegi bristled, hackles raised and tail flagged as she sought out the unfamiliar presence.

A dark woman—could have been your garden-variety Melonii, except her eyes were a bright, sickly sort of green. They cut through the woods like twin beacons; Maegi squared herself and march-hobbled toward the stranger, her chin lifted in a defiant stare. She ought to call for backup, and soon. . .

But. Let's just see how this plays out.

Who are you? the Nona demanded, coming within a pace or two of the she-wolf. What about blood sacrifice?