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“You didn’t slay a werewolf,” I breathed before repeating the words louder. “You did not slay a werewolf, Thaddeus.” “Oh, but I did. I took a band of huntsman with me and we tracked one down. A smaller one, mind you, not far from the front gate—” “You did not!” I contended more strongly. Why would one wolf have separated from the pack? Why outside our walls? “Yes, Catherine, I did,” he insisted. I shook my head disbelieving. “You’re not capable—” “I am so.” I wanted to cry. I wanted to protest, but to do so meant giving away my knowledge of the truth. Without knowing what else to do or say I changed the subject. “The fire’s gone out.” Thaddeus turned his head to check. “You’re right. I’ll see to it.” — Richelle E. Goodrich
You didn’t slay a werewolf,” I breathed before repeating the words louder. “You did not slay a werewolf, Thaddeus.”
“Oh, but I did. I took a band of huntsman with me and we tracked one down. A smaller one, mind you, not far from the front gate—”
“You did not!” I contended more strongly. Why would one wolf have separated from the pack? Why outside our walls?
“Yes, Catherine, I did,” he insisted.
I shook my head disbelieving. “You’re not capable—”
“I am so.”
I wanted to cry. I wanted to protest, but to do so meant giving away my knowledge of the truth. Without knowing what else to do or say I changed the subject.
“The fire’s gone out.”
Thaddeus turned his head to check. “You’re right. I’ll see to it.