Willow (Willow Falls Saga) - By Donna Lynn Hope Page 0,1

what of their young daughter who, even now, rested in a crib in the attic of their two-story cabin just a few feet behind them?

She shook her head and tried to remain focused, but she was first and foremost a wife and mother. She was a woman who didn’t want to be a fighter, but fight she would, for the ones she loved.

Instincts raged within her. First there was the genetic impulse to change and then there was the maternal instinct to run inside where she could protect her young, but if she did that she would lead them to her and they must not know about her. If she was considered disposable for merely loving a human, what would they do to her child?

She couldn’t hide the reactive tremor; it was already giving her away. She must not let her thoughts betray her further, and yet, the cherubic face of the little girl with her likeness and her father’s coloring lingered in her thoughts. Her daughter wasn’t one or the other, but both, a dormant with the possibility to be anything.

She closed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the visions that kept her from concentrating on the danger at hand. Her daughter would be safe. She could believe nothing else. She shielded her thoughts and squeezed her husband’s hand; his tightened with hers in supportive response.

The beta, second in command, approached and stared her down with a wicked smile forming at the crease of his mouth. This will be too easy.

He turned to the others. Smell their fear? The air is rank with it. Remember why we’re here. What flows through her veins is poison and we have orders to take her down.

He turned to her, made the link, and sneered. You know why we’re here, don’t you?

She twitched as energy raged throughout her body. Yes, I know.

Chapter 1: Haven

I was already parked after having come into town on an insignificant errand. My helmet sheltered me from view and I preferred the anonymity. Through my rear view mirror I caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar young woman approaching. Her demeanor was graceful but burdened. She saw nothing around her. There was something uneasy about her, like she was sad, disengaged, maybe even troubled. I was unexpectedly intrigued, which is a feeling that has evaded me for a long time. She was looking at the ground and for the briefest of moments looked my way and when she did I was stunned by the familiarity of her face.

I continued to follow her with my eyes. Without looking up she opened the door to the Chocolate Factory. I watched as the intriguing dark-haired girl scanned the items, almost as if she were thinking of something or someone else. I tilted my head and tried to read the face that I had seen before. Beneath her somber appearance there was a brief hint of a smile and then the same pained expression returned.

I silently wondered what misfortune could have imprinted its sorrow on her features. It was as if she were in mourning, which was unusual for so young a girl. I usually saw such furrowed brows and grief-stricken eyes on older people – the ones who have lost spouses or children even; typically the eyes of the young are lively, sometimes even shallow, as if all they see are themselves.

The young girl with her thoughts so far away had eyes that seemed beyond her years.

I watched as she picked out an item and reached inside her backpack. She kept searching, looking for money no doubt.

I couldn’t suppress the desire to approach her and felt this was a good excuse to do so. I reached for my wallet and pulled out a bill. The girl didn’t notice when the bells chimed and she didn’t notice when I came up behind her. She was still looking…and I was looking at her.

“Hi Haven.”

I heard the greeting and looked up briefly but barely noticed the girl behind the counter, nice though she was. I quickly recalled the slim, narrow face - a girl who lived here year-round. I returned her greeting and handed her a bill. “This should cover it.” As she began to fish for change I raised my hand and told her to keep it. She smiled and handed the bag to the girl standing in front of me, but my gaze had already returned to her silky mane of dark hair. The object of my curiosity turned and looked up at