Page 101 of Lady Knight and the Thief

Then, from between the trees came a low, rumbling growl.

Cypress’s heart skipped a beat, and her breath seized in her lungs.

A large, speckled black and tan paw stepped out first. Followed by the other paw, a great big barrel chest with a white patch on the breast, and then the face of the beast. It had sooty black fur with a splash of tan across the jowls, and in a pair of near-perfect circles upon the brow.

Fourenormouswings sprouted from its spine, tips peeking out between the treetops.

The Hound stood halfway into the Faerie circle, amber eyes glowing in the half-light, and they were set directly on Cypress.

“Is that?” Cypress started and took a half-step backward. Her hand found Torren’s wrist and gripped him like a lifeline.

If this were a winged Hound of the Hunt, there was no need for the Dryaads to warn them not to hurt it. The Hound would kill her and Torren before they ever laid a finger on it.

The beast took another step into the Faerie circle. Cypress heard Torren swallow thickly, his voice hoarse as he drawled, “Aye, that is a Winged Hound.”

“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” Cypress asked, eyes still locked with the amber eyes of the Hound.

The beast shook its fur, and the large wings on its back fluttered for a moment. A gust of wind blew her hair back.

“I’m not sure I have the time to fuck ye proper right now, Lass,” Torren drawled.

Cypress swatted him with her free hand. “Now is not the time!” she hissed.

Had Torren had ever said anything remotely helpful about what to do if they were to come across one of the Hounds of the Wyld Hunt? Cypress struggled to recall.

“That's what I was saying!”

“Torren,” Cypress growled, then took a step toward the horses.

The Hound growled, and its large, fluffy, almost bat-like ears flattened against its skull.

“I don’t think it liked that,” Torren said, then mirrored her step toward the horses.

Cypress waited for it to pounce, to growl, raise its teeth. But the Hound did nothing, amber eyes still only locked on Cypress.

She took another hesitant step toward the horses. The Hound growled once more and lifted its jowls around long, sharp teeth.

“The Hound doesn’t like it when you move, Lass…” Torren said.

“Thanks for exhibiting your grasp on the obvious,” Cypress retorted, then tried merely reaching toward the horses, as if she were going to pet them.

Again, the Hound growled, but it did not move from its perch, only just inside the Faerie circle.

Torren took another step toward the horses, but the hounds' glowing amber eyes never strayed from Cypress’s face.

“Torren,” Cypress started. Her mind worked overtime as she tried to formulate a plan.

“Lass,” he responded while he inched closer to the horses and his escape.

“Why does the Hound only care about what moves I make?”

Torren didn’t respond. Cypress’s heart pounded faster.

The Hound abruptly stood to shake out its inky dark fur and massive black wings.

Again, she heard the whispering of the leaves in her ear, the ephemeral voice urged Cypress to be kind.

So she did the only thing she could think of.