Cinder

Cinder smells the fire, hears the fight, but she’s already on her way down the hill.  Winds are coming in from the east, and bringing with them information.  They need to be moving three hours ago.

She can feel it, a reverberation, something stirring in the fire in her belly.  It’s not the thieves, mercenaries, soldiers, fanatics ringing them like a noose.  Something worse is coming.  She can feel its claws extending.

Cass is running back towards the inn when Cinder catches up.  “We’re leaving,” Cinder roars, birds exploding from the treetops.

“Someone,” pants Cass.  “Grabbed.  Statue.”

“Great.  Humans suck.

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