It had happened again. Somehow.

Somehow, they had defied all the odds. They seemed to do that a lot, defying the odds, and yet they never seemed to win. There was never some miraculous victory for them – only misfortune that was determined to derail what small periods of peace they managed to snatch.

If Sterre had known this was still possible, she never would have let him touch her. She was furious with herself for her own stupidity. She was furious with mother nature for her endless torment. And she was furious with Het Vuur for his unfathomable irresistible and apparently undiminishing fertility.

There was something growing inside her, and it was not just the ball of anger in the pit of her stomach.

When she had first begun to notice the tell-tale signs, Sterre had tried to deny their existence. She had ignored them, as if sheer stubbornness could make the fact untrue. But even Sterre’s unwavering obstinacy was not enough to stand up to biology.

She could hide it no longer.

Het Vuur’s touch against her side pulled her from her disgruntled reverie. With a snort she sidestepped away from him as she had been doing a lot lately, flicking her tail between them with a decisive snap. It was easy enough to hide a growing belly from a blind man – she simply had to stop him from getting too close – but the other mares in the Peak had eyes and mouths too.

If she didn’t say something soon, someone else would.

“I need to talk to you,” she said at last, the words barely a grumble.

this thing of darkness
I ACKNOWLEDGE MINE