7
Battered, bruised, her shirtsleeves reduced to ragged strips of soil-stained linen, Khaidu was still better off than Aglaia. The she-wolf had gaping wounds in her haunch that had begun to stink in that half-honey, half-rotten fruit smell of sickening flesh. Her left foreleg was almost useless. It seemed to Khaidu that even dragging it was painful for the she-wolf.
And yet, things could have been much worse.
They had made it to the Hag’s, after all. The beasts of Buyan had done everything they could to hinder their progress. But Aglaia was fearless, and after two days, even the stragglers had left them alone. Khaidu knew this was a temporary reprieve. All the more important to find the Hag and continue their journey to the Realm of the Dead.
Khaidu’s memories of their first visit were
