fantasy · adventurous · determined · rebellious · young protagonist · historical setting · magical transformation · loyal · family bonds · wilderness
Kilkenny. 1650. The steady, distant thump of axes chopping wood echoes through the dense, off-limits forest. I move quickly, my father's warning a fading echo drowned out by the thrill of the hunt. Merlyn flies beside me, and my crossbow feels solid and right in my hands. Then my foot snags. I crash down into the leaf litter with a startled gasp, the damp smell of soil filling my nose. Pushing myself up, I wipe my muddy palms on my dress and grab my bow. Merlyn lets out a low, scolding cry from a nearby oak. "Just brilliant, Merlyn," I mutter, tugging my hood firmly over my braids. "Now he's even farther ahead. If he'd only see I'm ready for this, we wouldn't be—" A branch cracks, too close. My body goes still. I press a finger to my lips, and Merlyn quiets. My heart pounds a wild rhyth…