They Mostly Come Out At Night (Yarnsworld Book 1) by Benedict Patrick

Author:Benedict Patrick [Patrick, Benedict]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-15T21:00:00+00:00

The wind whispered to the Magpie King. Perched atop an emergent elm, Adahy sniffed the wind. It carried the smell of blood, death and fresh stool. It told him the Eyrie was still occupied, that his home required cleansing.

As the sun hung low in the sky, the Magpie King’s ears picked out the noise of shuffling bodies, curled up together for warmth but beginning to grow restless at the threat of nightfall. He strained his newfound senses to hear more, doing his best to drown out the whimpering of his poisoned companion that he had left in a secluded cave. His father had warned him that his own bloodline had built up a resistance to the flower’s poison - only time would tell how Maedoc’s mind and body would react to the poison without that protection.

There. A growl, deeper than the others. Commanding. She is still there, the den mother. The leader of the Wolves, the murderer of my father. If she falls the Wolves will break apart, leaderless and lost. This was the victory my father had hoped for all his life, to free the forest. I must succeed at this.

The Eyrie was a couple of miles away, the tree tops between his perch and his home illuminated by the dye of the setting sun. Adahy started to move towards his home, remaining above the trees. His movement was effortless, the iron coils within his legs propelling him across fields of green, his hands reaching instinctively for a safe branch that had not even been visible to him when he had started his jump. Within minutes, he stood upon the Eyrie roof, and quickly navigated his way across it to the rooftop above the throne room.

He peered down again into that dark pit and was met with the smell of rotting flesh. Half-eaten bodies lingering in the corners of the room now fed maggots instead of Wolves. None of those feral animals rested in this room, it was too exposed to the daylight that they hated. Of his father, only a splattered patch of red remained. The new Magpie King dropped down from the ceiling, his feet brushing against the floor as a falling leaf kisses the grass. The large double doors to the throne room were now shut, so he walked forward to open them and stepped into the blackness inside.

Although it was daytime, in their effort to make the Eyrie into their new den, the Wolves had extinguished or blocked up all potential sources of light. A day ago this would have meant that Adahy would have had to stumble along blind, tripping up over every loose stone and using his hands to feel his way. Now the corridors were as clear to his eyes as if sunlight streamed through them. Physically they were empty, but to the Magpie King they were occupied by sounds and smells that were all leading him in the same direction as the wet stains on the flagstones beneath his feet. At

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