The hunter's cabin creaked under the weight of the storm that had rolled in during the night.
Rain hammered the roof like angry fists. Wind howled through the cracks in the walls, carrying the distant sound of howls that were not quite animal and not quite demon.
Liora sat on the edge of the narrow bed, cleaning the last of the dried blood from her hands with a scrap of cloth. Her fingers still trembled slightly from the fight earlier. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the scout's face as her shadows tore into his throat.
Cairis stood by the boarded window, peering through a narrow gap. His shoulder wound had been crudely bandaged, but fresh blood had already seeped through the cloth.
"You should let me look at that again," Liora said quietly.
He didn't turn. "It will heal. Demonic blood is stubborn."
"But it's still bleeding. And you bled for me back there."
