Here we are madly racing toward Thanksgiving, and my head is still spinning from Halloween. Plus, the daylight-savings-time change has done a number on me. So, I'll have to finish this flash scene next week.
In the meantime, I hope to finish formatting RED LIONESS TAMED for re-release as an Indie novella.
Autumn Wind Witch, the Summoning
Khasatra reverently raised her hand pressing her lips to her palm. She blew a farewell kiss into the vanishing winds of her realm.
After much sacred reflection, she had chosen to leave the timeless land of the Magick Ones -- from whence Merlin, and others, had emerged during the epic age of the grandest sorcery upon Earth.
Although Khasatra did not rub elbows with the notorious magician -- yet as she knew it -- Merlin often called Weyfaire home. Now, Weyfaire was shrouded, and a new path lay before her.
Khasatra stood within a starlit mountain clearing. Low on the mountainside, the level stretch of ground overlooked a town named Talbot's Peak.
Aware of the 'summoning' by Gypsy Red Wolf, and the women in her circle, Khasatra had felt the pull of curiosity. Using her large crystal sphere to hold the images for viewing, she'd tuned into the witch's circle.
Careful not to violate their lives or their magick, Khasatra had explored the energies of the various witches, ultimately discovering why they gathered at this crucial time. Then, upon surveying the unique shapeshifter community in this Montana land, she'd become captivated, enthralled by the cauldron of multi-species, sentient life forms.
Allowing her frequencies to come into harmonious balance, Khasatra breathed in the familiar and unfamiliar scents of this realm's forest. An abundance of animal life surrounded her. The fragrance of the Earth was richer, more primal than Weyfaire.
She slowly curved her lips in a smile as the autumnal winds whipped around her in a dancing exploration of her power. With their whirling strength, the night winds flung strands of her pale chestnut-red hair and billowed her heavy cape, spun from wool the color of an oak tree's trunk.
While her waist-length tresses writhed like small slender serpents, Khasatra closed her eyes and raised her arms. She embraced the wind spirit offering her gratitude for the ephemeral yet magnificently powerful being.
Even though Khasatra possessed the power to force her magickal will upon the winds, she had no need to accomplish such. She much preferred a union of their spirits, and that would be a matter of time and trust.
Her brief communion done, Khasatra lowered her arms. Now she must travel to the underground castle known as the Interspecies Pleasure Club. A bright glow of anticipation filled her at the full realization -- she did truly embark upon a new adventure.
Besides, as the Goddess knew, her life in Weyfaire had come to a standstill, neither progressing nor stalling -- an existence that hardly illuminated her soul, or nourished her as a woman. The regional round table had seen to that fate ever since she'd refused to marry one of the minor princes.
Her beauty had been considered lesser in comparison to others of her witch kind. Thus, she'd been paired with Gregorth, a boorish, spindly figure of a man with a highly unattractive black goatee.
Khasatra had longed to rip it off his sharp-as-a-blade chin every time he toothy grinned at her. As well, every time he lustfully gazed at her with the black pools that were supposed to be his eyes, she'd come to fiercely desire witnessing her dagger plunged deep into his heart.
While Gregorth's accomplishment as an alchemist drew the respect of the realm, his manner with women was simply abysmal. Truly, he'd merely wanted her as a vessel for his rutting needs, and to birth an image of himself.
Dismissing her distasteful remembrance of the intolerable princeling, Khasatra gathered her cape close about her. For now, the night's frosty cold seeped inside her bones.
With a directed thought, Khasatra created a faintly sparkling trail. Keeping her tread careful over the uneven ground, she followed the starry stream which disappeared behind her.
She held no fear of meeting with the witch circle or with Dante, the werewolf leader. However, the other werewolves lurking about caused Khasatra moments of dread, since she had not ever dealt with their kind. Not having her complete arsenal of powers yet in this denser world, she remained more vulnerable than she cared to contemplate.
As Khasatra traveled ever downward, she listened for the slightest sound indicating trouble. Her fingertips sizzled with enough force to blow away an attacker, as if struck by a tornadic blast of wind.
"Find her." Gypsy Red Wolf had paused before adding, "You are the All Things Unseen Tracker."
Hell and howls to the bare sliver of a moon above... he could track a shadow entity on the blackest night of the year. True.
Having just arrived at the Pleasure Club from the Big Bend area of Texas, though, he owned no familiarity with the lay of the forested land. "Cold as a witch's ass," Zvoraq muttered, trotting in the direction Gypsy had indicated.
His cousin's words resounded inside his head as he picked up his pace. Gypsy's pointed 'don't mess with a bitch wolf' gaze would forever brand the human side of his brain. Of that, Zvoraq owned not a damn shred of doubt.
He'd never known Gypsy to be quite this determined and forceful. Although, he'd been present, and seen how totally immersed she'd been in her sixth-sense 'knowing' that another witch arrived in Talbot's Peak.
Sensing the woman, Zvoraq moved onto the mountain trail. Seconds later, danger entered his nostrils. An internal siren wailed a warning. Tigers, the shapeshifting Yakuza kind stalked her.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side…
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance