“The girl did not see me. She inspected her palm, holding it up to the silver moon like an offering. Blood trickled, dark against the rocks. The magic I could taste was untamed – fierce and angry. She lifted her hand to her mouth, tongue hungry, and when she pulled it away her lips were smeared bloody red.”

“The girl did not see me. She inspected her palm, holding it up to the silver moon like an offering. Blood trickled, dark against the rocks. The magic I could taste was untamed – fierce and angry. She lifted her hand to her mouth, tongue hungry, and when she pulled it away her lips were smeared bloody red.”

— Fran Dorricott