Quinn
The room smelt musty. Its ornate and overdone furnishings aimed to intimidate not welcome. I felt sad that my grandfather’s pack, the royal pack, that soon would be mine felt like a foreign place. Maybe it was the gold leafing and the patterned rugs, or maybe it was the grim-faced former kings that stared down from behind the desk that made me twitchy.
My eyes landed on the heavy-set chair that sported two howling wolf heads which jutted up from the back rest. It looked more like a medieval throne than a desk chair. The werewolf crown sat proudly on display in an up-lit case behind the throne-like chair. It all seemed a bit much to me. I could have been sitting on the set of a medieval movie. Despite this room’s familiarity it had never looked so foreboding.
Duncan’s words echoe
