Hecates curse

...

Then they came, surrounding her, closing her in like a caged animal. They growled, drool seeping from their grim muzzles. They stretched their heads to the sky and howled in unison. Her hands trembled as she gripped the knife. Slowly she reached an arm across her lower abdomen, she looped her finger in a silken loop on her skirt and pulled, dropping her petticoats to the floor. Underneath she wore a pair of cotton trousers. ‘‘Ladies don’t wear trousers ’’ her mother’s voice rang through her mind, but she shook it away. Her hand rested on a sword that was strapped to her waist. ‘Lugging this under my skirt was hell’ she thought. The howling stopped, the beasts lowered their heads and glared at her. Yellow eyes on her. She put her best foot forward and stood in a protective stance. Then, the first one lunged at her. With a quick, swift slice she’d unsheathed the sabre on her hip and cut the beast in two. It fell to the floor and writhed about, using its front paws to try and reach its legs. She kicked the beast away from her and it yelped in protest. In some ways the beasts do hold a strong value of loyalty. As soon as they saw their brother’s body fall limp, all the other beasts attacked, she could almost hear their pain in the growls that emanated from their throats. She spun around and sliced the sword that rested heavily in her hand. Attacking and hacking at the teeth and claws that had set their sights on her. She kicked, fought and used all her skills to protect herself. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins and her breath was heavy and laboured. Lunge, swipe and recoil. This mantra was her only lifeline, over and over she uttered it to herself.