a cat…
hunched, trying to flatten…shrink
Fur…dingy…ragtag…on-end
Teeth…needlepointed…bared in a rictus grin
Eyes…glaring with terror…glazed with pain…
the blanket it crouched…trembled upon
smeared…tacky with gore.

This then had been the spoor that led the hounds to the campsite. This had been their initial quarry. They'd scented and tracked the blood. Torin squatted, slowly extended a hand, then jerked it back…tattooed with four scarlet stripes.

Swearing, flesh smarting, lips tight with restrained indignation, he grabbed the discarded jerkin and, tossing it over the spitting, yowling feline, picked the cat up. Turning toward the firelight he toppled the animal upon its back, deftly avoiding further contact with the flailing paws, claws raking the air.

Torin drew in a ragged breath at the sight of an oozing, disfigured limb. Abruptly, the cat’s frenzied contorting and bucking ceased. The small body sagged and fell limp. Tensing Torin quickly unwrapped its head and neck, then relaxed, letting his breath out. Though barely discernible, the scrawny chest still rose and fell. It had simply fainted. Hunger, loss of blood, pain, shock and fright had all taken their toll.'

The Evil Queen's deeds were not erased with her death - she left many victims behind. This is the story of some of them, and their quest for a "Happy Ever After" ending for themselves...