***
Mona’s uninvited guest had finally taken leave. After several minutes of collecting herself, she turned her attention away from the danger that had taken its leave, to the grief that was music to her ears and nutrients to her body. “If I were the dancing kind, which I’m not, I swear I would do a jig right now.” Mona stroked Octavian’s mane as she felt her magic pulsing across the distance finally having found its prey. She could taste the agony of the females and the rage of the males feeding her wickedness and urging her on. The chaos was a welcome distraction from the frustration caused by the continuing failure of the warlock king. She had to admit that there had been much that had not gone as planned and there were new situations she'd had to adjust to, but that was the way of war
