[ IP ] Witch Hunt

This was the place. Felerig could smell it - the stale iron mist pulled into the air by the sweeping northern cold. The snow came at him sideways, biting through his long coat and stinging his eyes. Even as he squinted his eyes against the winds and pulled the neck of his coat higher to protect his exposed skin, the red that bled its way through the white coat over the ground was unmistakable. 
 
 The clearing was ahead, maybe another 500 to 600 feet. Felerig stepped to his left as he approached, his hand reaching out from safety and warmth to feel the deep gashes that had been carved into the trees. His fingers pressed into the grooves, running over the pattern as he reached to the back of his mind to remember what they meant. Inner-laid triangles, House of Alenma. Single vertical strike through, Melvag Sect. A slanted cross, circled, and underneath the main pattern - the current occupants of these hunting grounds had stolen them. 
 
 This explained the coin he had been promised for the contract. Stealing hunting grounds was frowned upon by the Noble Houses. This also worried Felerig. Witches powerful enough to steal hunting grounds would be more than a challenge. He regretted not taking Melen on his offer. If nothing else, the extra set of eyes would have been useful. 
 
 `` They've sent a Seeker after us, sisters. We are offended,'' the voice taunted through the biting chill even wolf and bear skins could not keep at bay. 
 
 `` Indeed. The House of Alenma is too busy to deal with us themselves?'' a second voice, higher pitcher, but not necessarily younger. 
 
 `` Or perhaps they are afraid?'' the third, sultry, tinged with a blood thirsty wanting. Felerig's hand moved to his sword. 
 
 He focused his gaze forward, but saw no enemies. They had most likely cast a glimmer coat to hide their presence, leaving only the markers on the trees to discourage those who could read them. Felerig had not time for their illusions. He pulled his sword from its sheath, his hands tingling against the satisfying friction of steel against redwood. 
 
 `` He raises his sword against us. How long has it been since we've seen steel?'' 
 
 `` Years, decades even.'' 
 
 Felerig ignored them, raising the flat of his sword to his lips, he blew on the polished surface. It glowed with warm light in response. Felerig then turned his sword horizontally, blade flat to the earth so that cut his view in half, bringing his left index and middle finger to hold the blade on its outward facing edge. He slid his gauntlet-clad fingers across the surface and whispered the incantation: `` Revelos.'' 
 
 They condensed out of the air, frosted spectres clad in youth and covered with the crimsons of their prey. Their skin did not balk at the cold, instead embracing it as they walked ever closer, unashamed in the way their every step coaxed arousal. Felerig let his eyes wander towards the high branches of the trees to see the bodies frozen solid and swaying in the wind. Bloody icicles formed at their toes as they rocked side to side. 
 
 `` He smells delicious, sisters,'' the sultry voice said. 
 
 Felerig whispered as he sword slowly lowered to a mid guard as he whispered, `` you had better be worth the coin.''
