Read Sora's Quest for Free Online Page B

know."
    Gross. Sora glanced down, focusing on the fire. Her face turned even whiter with anger. The Blooming was a sacred ceremony. Young girls were prepped as early as eleven. They practiced for years...and here he was, scoffing at it like a jester's act.
    Crash moved away from them, back to his horse. He finished removing the saddle and began brushing down the steed.
    Dorian seemed to grow bored with her silence and let out a long yawn. "Sit down, girl. You're making my neck ache," he finally growled, and waved his hand.
    Sora obeyed tightly, seething on the inside. Better to sit, she told herself firmly. Her legs were shaking from a mixture of fear and outrage, but she was trying to hide it. She sat as close to the hidden knife as possible. The dirt was cold and damp beneath the trees, and the chill crept straight through the seat of her pants. Good thing I thought to bring a cloak. She picked up the thick fabric from the ground, trying to drag it across her shoulders, though she was limited by her bound hands.
    Dorian seemed to notice her discomfort, and another sneer pulled at his lips. "I suppose you're used to soft feather beds and warm meals, eh? Well, don't expect anything like that around here. You'll be sleeping on dirt until we find a way to get rid of you."
    She ignored him, though the words circled around in her head. Get rid of me. Would they kill her? Dispose of the body? Or worse, sell her? She glanced again to the man in black, who had finished with his horse and was now sitting at her far left. He held a long, thin sword across his lap, and his fingers moved over it expertly, turning and flipping the blade in his hands as he polished it with an old rag. He worked deftly, silently.
    "Ah, the meat's done," Dorian said, and leaned forward to poke at the rabbit with a wicked knife. His face finally came into full view, brightly illuminated by the orange fire.
    Sora drew in a sharp gasp. Two long ears protruded from his hair, elegantly sloped, pointed. Ashen skin and brilliant blue eyes, the color of an arctic sky. Dorian caught her stare and cocked his head slightly to one side. Twitched one long ear. His large, pale eyes met hers.
    Then he showed his teeth—no, not teeth. Fangs. The man had fangs. Dear Goddess, fangs!
    He chuckled and speared the meat from the fire in a vicious movement. "What's the matter, sweetness?" he said, addressing her stare. "Never seen a Wolfy before?"
    "A...a Wolfy?" Sora stuttered. She didn't recognize the term.
    "Perhaps you're more familiar with Wulven," he suggested.
    Sora's eyes grew wider. Now she didn't know what to think. She would have laughed if he hadn't been holding a sharp knife. "Wulven!" she exclaimed softly. "Impossible. They don't truly exist...!"
    His look made her fall silent. She glanced at Crash, who was still polishing the sword, ignoring the conversation. "But...the Wulven race....They've been dead for centuries...."
    "Obviously not, since you're looking at one," Dorian responded wryly.
    Sora couldn't think of what to say.
    "Rich and ignorant. Typical," he grunted, and went back to slicing meat.
    Sora couldn't help herself. If there was one thing she had earned in life, it was an education. "I'm not ignorant!" She burst out. "I've...I've heard about your kind, but only as legends. Not even in history books," she tried to explain. There were countless mentions of Wulvens in the tales of Kaelyn the Wanderer—Wolfies, as Dorian so casually called them—but those were stories from ages past, before magic had been lost, before the great War of the Races....
    And could she truly believe this man? He was an outlaw, a common thief. He might be playing another game...but his ears, his unusual hair...his fangs ....
    Dorian turned away from her toward the menace in black. "Seems like she'll be very useful," he said, and offered Crash the first slice of meat. Sora heard the sarcasm.
    Crash ignored the comment, as he seemed to ignore everything. His silence was not