Excerpt from "Sins of the Fathers":
The moon peered through the treetops. Dead leaves carpeted the forest floor, where
moonlight draped them with silver lace. Night birds twittered, singing innocent harmony with the owl. Kristof meandered
without purpose. Debris crunched under the pads of his feet, but it was fine. No need for stealth. In this, his peaceful kingdom,
he felt no fear. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.
His croaking laughter silenced the birdsong.
Thirst had altered
his voice. Ahead, a stream traced an ebony line through a stand of oaks. When he reached it, he knelt on its bank, avoiding
his reflection. Using a taloned hand, he scooped a cupped palm full of cool, clear water, lifted it to his lips. The water
trickled down his parched throat and it felt like a wonder. For a time, his thirst was sated.
But not his hunger. He wandered on.
He caught sight
of a structure through the thinning tree trunks. A small manor house stood in a clearing, simple but well made. Smoke rose
from the chimney, undulating like a white serpent into the stars.
A
gentle wind rustled his mane, carrying the scent of prey.
