“He’s here, isn’t he? Take me to him, please.” Without waiting for a reply, Brygida rose. And she’d rather see him with Zofia leading her through the entrance, than with the wrath of the blood rending the door open.
With a respectful nod, Zofia cleared her throat and turned toward the house. “This way, Reaper.”
Zofia led her round the garden to a heavy oaken door that she pulled open. “Darek! Come on over here. We have a guest!”
Beckoning her in, Zofia followed after her and hasped the door. Within, the home belaid its outer hut appearance. Over the hearth, a set of bull’s horns held court, as if enthroned. The furnishing subjects were finely carved, painted with bright red poppies. Lily of the valley gathered in bunches, lending its bewitching scent to the assembly.
“Will you take tea
