The Evil We Command

Chapter 2

The ragged winds of the Stag Mountains whistled past his ears, blowing his uncut hair. The commander of the White Wolves spun on the heals of his unpolished black leather boots and sauntered into the tent, the door flaps seemingly opening for him as he passed.

He sat down at his desk and looked down at the death list of New London: seven wolves lost and the whole population of New London wiped from the face of the earth.

"Jess, get my map," he said to his second-in-command. She walked out of the tent and into the brewing storm to the neighbouring tent to fetch the map.

After a few minutes she was back, holding the dirty and bloody map. She laid it down on the table, maticulously putting the corners under ivory paperweights.

"Now, where shall we strike next?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miriam woke up in a pool of he own sweat and the sounds of her fathers distressed panting. She grabbed one of her silk nightgowns and put it on. She rushed to his room, grabbing a moist small towel on the way to put on his forehead to cool him down.

She swung open his door strongly, almost knocking it off its hinges. "Father, are you ok?" She whispered. She saw his eyes flicker in response. She let out a sigh. She didn't need this right now, she needed a father who could help support her, but she knew that was never going to come, his health was terrible.

She laid the wet towel down on his forehead and went out, silently shutting the door on her way.

She went back to her room to get dressed. She put on a long dress with a woollen jacket and dark leather shoes.

She was on her way to the kitchen, but her dream kept nagging her. The dream had been a terrible one, full of blood and death. But she couldn't tell if it was just a dream or if it was the future. She wouldn't bother, she didn't want to expose the secret.

Today was a market day, which meant she had to leave house early in the morning and wouldn't get back till late at night. She had to leave now if she wanted to get a good spot for her tent.

She walked to the front door and opened it, the chill of midwinter swooping into the house. Hopefully the fire would last for a few more hours.

She walked out into the cold towards the market grounds. Hopefully the cold wouldn't keep people from wanting their future told. Hopefully.

She pitched her tent and sat inside. She checked her watch. 7:30 it read. Fifteen minutes till it started. She shouldn't have come this early.

Fifteen minutes passed, and her first customer surprised her. Surprised everyone, from the sound outside.

Miriam's first customer was the prince.