What do you think?
Rate this book


ebook
Published August 1, 2022
The waterhorse walked closer towards all of them, before stopping and considering them all with a calculated, heartless gaze. The intelligence there was frightening, it was obvious this wasn’t a regular animal shifter with an animal mind. This was something else entirely, a canny knowing that started in a place of cold hunger and ended with blood.
[...] The Glashtyn danced away on his hooves, laughing again. Then, he burst into song: ‘Oh, the Glashtyn’s work is never done, he’s never sated and so well hung! Ohhh, the Glashtyn’s work is never easy, he’s always hungry and a little sleazy.’ He burst into darker, longer laughter that shredded at all of them.
‘When I was a foal, before my appetite matured, I was ‘allowed’ out all the time. He and I were one and the same. Ash Glashtyn. The only time the name meant anything at all, though I have never needed a name beyond the one I am born to. […] And then my instincts woke, and we were sundered because of his rejection and revulsion.’ Laughter, bitter, bleak and dangerous. ‘And then I was only allowed out to hunt. Yes, this is the most I have been allowed out for three thousand years. When I am weak. When I am starving. When I am exposed to the open sky.’
'It is a strange thing, to have hope, after so long without it. But hope is not fact, Mosk, and your imminent defeat may be. But it is in the fiction of things that we weave new beginnings. Tell yourself good stories, sapling, with good endings.'