Beginning Of The Hunt

DAEMON

"You were right, the Matriarchy bit the bait." Shadow announced, the words sounding like a well-written poem in Daemon's ears.

Daemon leaned into his well-cushioned chair, the thought that it would be the last time he would sit on the tent chair causing him to massage his now stiff shoulders.

The full moon was alive that night, which meant that his wolf raged to be free. The urge was particularly fiercer and Daemon had a feeling it had something to do with its previous unrest. The unrest still lingered on, but he was almost certain that the presence of the full moon would cure him of that unrest.

"How were you so sure the reclusive Matriarchy would step out of the Mountains just for her?" Yaren asked, stripping out of his very expensive coat in preparation to shift, leaving his torso bare.

"I wasn't sure." Daemon said, finally standing up from the chair. "I bet that it would either be them, or the white monks."