Shifters - The king of wolves - Book 1

CHAPTER 1 - WHISPERS OF TALES AND RUMOURS

The sky transformed into a beautiful mixture of vibrant colours as the first rays of the sun appeared, signalling the arrival of a new day. The narrow streets were silent, only the chirping birds and the rhythmic clatter of my cart were echoing between the tall, wooden buildings. A warm breeze swayed my dark locks against my damped cheeks. Although summer was just beginning, the heat in the air was already warning me of the forthcoming warmth of the day.

It would be the eleventh day without rainfall, we would have to be even more wary of our water if we wanted to get through this summer. I cast a concerned glance at the flowers that were nestled within my cart, their sweet scent attracting the attention of buzzing bees. 

If the rumours circulating in town were to be believed, it would be an even worse drought than the one we had three summers ago. Anxiety gnawed at me, how could I tend my flowers if the townsfolk themselves were deprived of sufficient water? I should be extra careful with my funds if I want to get through the next couple of months.

As I approached the town's square, the sounds of joyous banter grew louder. The market vendors were chatting with each other while setting up their stalls, sharing captivating tales and thrilling rumours that they brought from other parts of our world. 

I weaved my way through the maze of stalls, catching glimpses of baskets full of fresh food, tables covered with colourful fabrics and displays showcasing exquisite hand-painted pottery. Amidst the organized chaos, stood Lord Wilfred Thorbrand, the town councillor. His confident demeanour demanded obedience and attention from the queue of people forming before him, as he checked the names of the extensive list clutched in his hand. I joined the rear of the line, patiently awaiting my turn.

"State your name and the goods you trade", Lord Thorbrand's piercing gaze bore down on me as he waited for my answer. I felt a tremor of anxiety as I replied. "Esmara, selling flowers and healing herbs." 

Despite facing him several days a week, his demeaning posture still managed to unnerve me. Dressed in long, green velvet robes and matching hat, he exuded wealth and power and it was clear that he commanded respect and order. 

His eyes roamed over his list, a deep frown creasing his forehead as he knit his bushy eyebrows together. Finally, his stern voice declared, "Ah, there you are. You will be situated on the western side of the church, next to the baker's stall. The fee for your placement is two grey shards." 

I retrieved my pouch that was tucked beneath the folds of my dress, took out two metal coins and placed them into the outstretched hand of the councillor.

Pushing my cart towards the appointed area, I was greeted by many familiar faces. "Good morning, Esmara!" called out Mrs Wheatley as I arrived at my stall. Her warm smile lit up her face as she passed loaves of bread to her husband who was arranging everything neatly. Her locks of grey hair were put together in a tight bun. Remnants of flour smudged her apron, dress and even her face, proof of her early morning efforts in baking all the fresh goods. "How are you today?"

"I'm doing well, thank you. How are you and Mr Wheatly doing?" I replied while preparing my own stall.

Mrs Wheatly sighed, her face reflecting a touch of fatigue. "Oh, dear, I've had a restless night. I can feel an unsettling sensation in the air. I blame it on the full moon, that bloody thing was as big as a dragon's egg last night."

Mr Wheatly interjected with a hint of irritation, "Not this again, Astrid! Talking about moons and superstitions."

"It's not mere superstition" Mrs Wheatly defended herself, her voice tinged with conviction. "Strange things are happening. I had a chat earlier with a vendor from Olmsfield who told me that more and more shifters have been spotted in his town for weeks now."