Prologue
The phantom burning in her wrists had long since faded to an aching numbness, but the rest of her was an inferno. She felt the movement within her soul, a visceral invasion of her deepest being. Reaching to the core of her, to the seat of her life, it would not be dulled by even their most careful attentions.
'It hurts in a way for which none can ever prepare you. You might think then that all you want is to die, but in an hour – maybe less – you know... and the next day defies imagination.'
The warning hissed through her. Splayed out in sleep, her arms a cross beneath the pillows, she twisted, her mouth opening, soundlessly at first. Then she drew breath and her cry split the over-ripe night, spilling out fear toward the remnants of a once proud race – the top of the food chain, become haunted prey.
It was not for food that they were hunted.
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Eirian Houpe