An excerpt for you - from Wytch Pt II: Toil & Trouble

There is another edit to go yet, but here is a tease for you all, from the soon to be released - WYTCH Pt II: Toil & Trouble...

“Sir?” Fingst whispered.

Leigh opened his eye and saw Fingst hovering over him.

“Aye?”

“Sir, I am sorry that I must disturb you; but you ordered it, if we observed anything strange.”

Leigh jumped swiftly to his feet and instinctively grabbed his belt.

“Aye, Fingst… what’s the to-do?”

“Brennan is keeping an eye on it, o'er yonder. We think something is watching us, for we are sure we saw eyes, blinking and reflecting the light from our torch.”

Leigh stepped in beside Brennan, donned his cape and drew it close to keep the chilly air at bay. The first signs of snowfall had appeared while he was asleep… thin and wispy flakes flashed into view against the darkness of the sky.

“That way!” Brennan nodded.

Leigh watched and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark again. “Aye, I see it. Has it been any closer?”

“Nay,” Brennan replied. “Whate’er ‘tis, it keeps a good distance and watches. Sometimes it shifts a little, this way or that, though it has now stood its ground for most of our watch.

Leigh could hear the other two guards breathing. The night was otherwise silent; save for Davidge’s grunting snores, drifting across from where the wagon was parked.

“Wake Gareth… he and I will walk out and investigate. Leave the lad asleep.”

Again, the captain and Gareth headed out over the plain in the dark. The snow began to fall more freely – though it was still only falling lightly, more and heavier flakes were being pushed towards them by the breeze.

“A wolf, perhaps?” Gareth said hopefully.

“Possible! We shall know soon enough. Hold your sword at the ready.”

They strode forward, their torches thrust high as they moved closer and closer; but when they reached half-way between the camp and the eyes, something strange began to happen.

“Sir, is it moving?”

“Nay,” Leigh replied. “I still see the eyes clear enough; though, the closer we move, the further away they appear – ‘tis as if the thing was backing away.”

“If so,” Gareth mumbled; “then ‘tis steady on its feet, in the dark and in retreat!”

They continued moving forwards… fifty paces at the least, Gareth thought; and all the time, being drawn further away from their camp, from the three younger guards and from Davidge and his wagon.