ALIEN SHIFTER ROMANCE: Alien Tigers - The Complete Series (Alien Invasion Abduction Shapeshifter Romance) (Paranormal Science Fiction Fantasy Anthologies & Short reads) by Tanya Jolie Page B
Authors: Tanya Jolie
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Turning her back on Vreden’s warning look, she climbed the stairs to her rented room, laying her weapons with her pack against the wall. Her things were already prepared. She needed only to take them up in the morning. In the flickering glow of the fire, she stripped out of her hunter’s leathers and stretched herself out on the bed, asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.
Chapter Two
Dawn came clear, stretching itself out along the horizon all gold and pink, chill with the first touch of winter. Farther north, Mairead knew, the summer would be ended already, and in the mountains beyond the northernmost border, the first snows would be falling.
The stranger who brought news of the dragon in the Wyndwae had already ridden out. Though the message he shared with them was but rumor and speculation, the rider himself was a king's messenger bound once more north and east. He, and news of her coming, would reach the Wyndwae well before she did. Vreden too was gone, in the grey light before morning, taking his two young apprentices with him.
Mairead rode out as dawn turned on toward morning, slinging her pack over the back of the fine-blooded bay stallion that had been a gift from a grateful lord. There were, after all, some perks to being a hunter of monsters. She was in no hurry to reach the Wyndwae. If the dragon had razed a village already, they would have heard of it. For now, at least, the beast seemed to be leaving well enough alone, another indication that it was more likely to be a drake than one of the great white dragons of the west. Of course, there was little treasure to be found in the poor villages of the Wyndwae, so perhaps it was only biding its time until a shipment of gold came through. If so, it would be waiting long. For a beast rumored to be so intelligent, it had not chosen its lair well. Only a hundred miles west, the king's city sat in a low, open valley, its houses and its people gilded and jeweled.
The land through which she rode as morning became midday was familiar, the low, rolling hills of the southern province. It was said that once there had been unicorns in the lowland woods, but if there ever had been they were gone long ago. Mairead had certainly never seen one. It seemed, at times, that Lyndoun had all of the darkness and none of the beauty. It was for that she hunted down the creatures that terrified the simple people only trying to go about their lives. Surely they had right to some light in their lives, to some escape from fear and worry.
Her father had taught her the use of the war bow which she carried behind her. Though her own was modified, its draw much lighter than those carried by the king's rangers, it was a formidable weapon, capable of piercing an armored hide at a hundred yards. She had turned her first herself, under the guidance of her father’s hand, when she was only seven summers old. This was her fourth, each of them her own work. Her father had always said that the first step in using a weapon is to know it from end to end.
He had never spoken of it, but Mairead sometimes wondered if he had expected a son, but had taken what he could get when he was given instead a daughter who grew too tall too quickly, all lanky, ungraceful limbs. If he had, he had done well with what he was granted. She had never missed the mother who died in her birthing bed. Her father had been all she needed.
When the sun was at its zenith, Mairead stopped to let her horse feed, settling down on a flat-topped rock set into the side of one of the hills with her own lunch. It was pleasant, the chill of the morning worn off in the light of day. She sat enjoying the breeze and the little noises of creatures moving through the grass for some time, the quiet, contented sounds of Embarr grazing a welcome companion. When she mounted once more, she rode slowly, eyes searching the landscape. To her left, an arm of the forest rose, trees lifting banner upon banner toward the
Turning her back on Vreden’s warning look, she climbed the stairs to her rented room, laying her weapons with her pack against the wall. Her things were already prepared. She needed only to take them up in the morning. In the flickering glow of the fire, she stripped out of her hunter’s leathers and stretched herself out on the bed, asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.
Chapter Two
Dawn came clear, stretching itself out along the horizon all gold and pink, chill with the first touch of winter. Farther north, Mairead knew, the summer would be ended already, and in the mountains beyond the northernmost border, the first snows would be falling.
The stranger who brought news of the dragon in the Wyndwae had already ridden out. Though the message he shared with them was but rumor and speculation, the rider himself was a king's messenger bound once more north and east. He, and news of her coming, would reach the Wyndwae well before she did. Vreden too was gone, in the grey light before morning, taking his two young apprentices with him.
Mairead rode out as dawn turned on toward morning, slinging her pack over the back of the fine-blooded bay stallion that had been a gift from a grateful lord. There were, after all, some perks to being a hunter of monsters. She was in no hurry to reach the Wyndwae. If the dragon had razed a village already, they would have heard of it. For now, at least, the beast seemed to be leaving well enough alone, another indication that it was more likely to be a drake than one of the great white dragons of the west. Of course, there was little treasure to be found in the poor villages of the Wyndwae, so perhaps it was only biding its time until a shipment of gold came through. If so, it would be waiting long. For a beast rumored to be so intelligent, it had not chosen its lair well. Only a hundred miles west, the king's city sat in a low, open valley, its houses and its people gilded and jeweled.
The land through which she rode as morning became midday was familiar, the low, rolling hills of the southern province. It was said that once there had been unicorns in the lowland woods, but if there ever had been they were gone long ago. Mairead had certainly never seen one. It seemed, at times, that Lyndoun had all of the darkness and none of the beauty. It was for that she hunted down the creatures that terrified the simple people only trying to go about their lives. Surely they had right to some light in their lives, to some escape from fear and worry.
Her father had taught her the use of the war bow which she carried behind her. Though her own was modified, its draw much lighter than those carried by the king's rangers, it was a formidable weapon, capable of piercing an armored hide at a hundred yards. She had turned her first herself, under the guidance of her father’s hand, when she was only seven summers old. This was her fourth, each of them her own work. Her father had always said that the first step in using a weapon is to know it from end to end.
He had never spoken of it, but Mairead sometimes wondered if he had expected a son, but had taken what he could get when he was given instead a daughter who grew too tall too quickly, all lanky, ungraceful limbs. If he had, he had done well with what he was granted. She had never missed the mother who died in her birthing bed. Her father had been all she needed.
When the sun was at its zenith, Mairead stopped to let her horse feed, settling down on a flat-topped rock set into the side of one of the hills with her own lunch. It was pleasant, the chill of the morning worn off in the light of day. She sat enjoying the breeze and the little noises of creatures moving through the grass for some time, the quiet, contented sounds of Embarr grazing a welcome companion. When she mounted once more, she rode slowly, eyes searching the landscape. To her left, an arm of the forest rose, trees lifting banner upon banner toward the
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