Adora was apprehensive as she searched the forest for the missing little one.   Her keen gray eyes scanned the ground, flitting upward to take in the dense canopy above her at intervals.  She should have sensed the upcoming storms’ presence earlier; then she would not be in such a state of worry(rush).  Even one with gifts such as hers had to take shelter from the fury of Mother Nature.   The Great Mother who nurtured and provided for them could also met out swift punishment to those who did not show her the proper respect.  To be wary and (to plan ahead) were traits the Mother rewarded; to fail to observe these habits often led to quick, cruel learning of the lesson.  If Adora would have been worried for any of her charges, she was doubly worried for this one.  The many creatures she tended to had varying strengths and weaknesses but this one was the only one who could be said to have a disability.  Juneau only had one eye. She was still a young cat, barely more than a kitten and she had only recently recovered from the loss of the eye.   Although, she hadn’t been caring for her all that long, Adora had become attached to the plucky little ball of fur.  Adora enjoyed her telepathic connection to every animal, in fact to every living thing, but Juneau seemed to have special gifts of her own. And, Juneau was as sweet natured as any animal Adora had known, despite her unjust start in life. Adora recalled with disgust how she had happened to rescue Juneau.  Against the bleak winter skyline, the smoke from the campfire had been impossible to miss and Adora had approached, thinking to share news and company with a traveler.  Instead she had come upon a scene so cruel, so evil as to curdle her blood.  Before she came into the clearing, before she could see what was happing, she knew it was bad.  She heard the desperate mewing of an animal in distress, and she sensed frantic movement.  She plunged through the brush and into the camp, startling the three humans there.  There were two men and a woman, and Adora’s upper lip curled into a snarl as she recognized them for what they were.  Xylejdkfj.   Ones such as these had no reverence for the Earth and her creatures.  Indeed, they worshiped a dark and malevolent god, one that fed on the pain and suffering of others.  His very name meant ‘Bringer of Chaos’ and his followers brought violence and destruction where ever they went. They were in the middle of some kind of sacrifice when Adora startled them.  She glanced at their crude alter and at first thought she was too late.  Blood pooled on the ground and kittens, six or seven, lie on the altar; some were mutilated, others crushed, but none moved.  The three worshipers turned on Adora and she quickly sized up the situation.  Their kind was known for human sacrifices, and known to be plenty dangerous.  Yet she saw by their faces they were young, not more than fifteen years, and they were playing at ritual.  Not old enough to participate in the rites of their elders, they held a mock sacrifice of their own, using kittens instead of human babies, no doubt.   Although Adora was in her prime, and well skilled, they counted three and her only one, so she debated whether to fight or flee.  Suddenly, there was a stirring on the altar, and a faint, miserable mewing issued forth into the still night air.  The youths hardly took notice, reaching for the crude daggers they had used only recently and advancing on Adora.  For Adora, however, her decision was made in that instant, with that sound.    She withdrew her own sword and fell upon them.  In that moment, and moments like it before, she was the Mother, and the Mother was her, and she struck with all the fury of any mother defending her young.  Her enemies fell rapidly before her, and she took no time to savor their deaths, hurrying instead to the single remaining living thing and inspecting its’ wounds.  She discovered the tiny gray mass had one of its eyes gouged out, but otherwise no damage.  She bundled it in her cloak to prevent shock, and quickly gathered up the other small corpses and put them in her satchel.  She would bury them later.  She left the three offal she had killed where they lay to rot. Now, as she sifted thought the forest, she tried to clear her head.  Her mind was wandering back to that awfulness because she feared for Juneau now.   Adora’s nerves were always strung tightly before a storm, so in tune was she with her surroundings.   But now she felt something else, some additional internal warning.   She smelled danger, and like a nervous doe she twitched.  Suddenly she saw Juneau in the distance.  She moved quickly towards the cat, but did not call out to her.  Something felt wrong.  In an instant she knew what was out of place, she saw Juneau but she did not feel her.  Nor did the cat, sensing her mistress’ presence turn to face her.   Adora hesitated, hand on sword. As if sensing its ruse had failed, the ‘cat’ turned and hissed at Adora.  It was not Juneau, for it had two eyes, not one.  Mid-hiss, the cat’s shape began to melt and shift and before Adora’s eyes, it took its true form, a short black dog of a demon.  A hellhound.  Adora pulled her sword free of its hilt and muttered a rite of protection, imploring the Mother to banish this unnatural thing.  The dog growled once, and sprinted away.  Adora followed, knowing where there is hound there is master, and somehow sensing Juneau’s nearness. The dog rounded a bend in the forest and came into a clearing.   These woods belonged to Adora, she was the Queen and this was her kingdom, and she knew without doubt this meadow, and the house in the middle of it, did not exist here.  She had crossed out of the natural world and into some other kind.   The house was not more than a shack, but it was surrounded by a fence of bones.  Far more disturbing to Adora, inside the fence of bones, not a single thing grew or bloomed.  The only living creatures, if they could be called living, were the demon hounds, nine in all roaming the yard.