IT WAS a frigid night in February, but the streets were alight with people, all young and all fearless, and the Seeker watched from the shadows. Puffs of snow fell from the sky, announced by the screams of drunk college students on their way back to their apartments and dormitories. In this college town, Friday nights meant parties, and the Seeker was curious as to the culture of the humans around him.
He was sent there for a reason, and he was determined to see it through. Slinking from out of the shadows, his face rearranged itself to look younger, stronger, more jock than man. He fell in-step on the sidewalk, stuffing his hands into his jacket, watching as the students stumbled through the streets, laughter on their lips.
He blended in beautifully, and no one shot him a second glance. He was just another college student, on his way home. Blending in and pretending came easy to the Seeker, for that was his job. And it always had been.
He moved down a side street that was instantly quieter and more desolate. He could sense something near, perhaps the thing he was searching for. But, he never quite got that far as a bullet whizzed silently into the back of his head.
As the Seeker fell into the snowy sidewalk, his face shimmered back to its usual form, and the wrinkled face of the middle aged Seeker stared expressionless to the road.
A woman, the one who held the gun, walked over to the man and grasped the back of his head by his hair. Her black gloves disappeared in his black hair as she yanked his face up to hers. He was obviously dead, and the blood that oozed from the wound dripped onto the white snow beneath his heavy body.
The woman looked over his face, instantly recognizing the tattoo that snaked up his neckline. Most men from the Snow Clan had their tattoos in different places, but the woman was thankful she didn't have to search him for the ink that proclaimed his origins.
Raising her face to the sky, she smiled wickedly. If the Snow Clan sent a seeker here, then she had to be close. She just had to be.
* * *
So, here we are. That's right: I am rewriting the loved story, Frostbitten Past. As some may remember, this was the first story I'd ever written on this website, so many years ago. The first draft was horrible, full of plot holes, and overall very cringeworthy.
This rewrite will hopefully put an end to all those people messaging me about this series. Yes, it has returned.
Because it is a rewrite, there will be new twists and turns. It will not be exactly like the old story. Please keep that in mind while reading.
Okay, love you all. XOXO
Want to know more about this book? Check out my blog!
https://wickedpromisesblog.wordpress.com/the-golden-prophecy-series/
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Frostbitten Past
Fantasy|Book 1| Andorra keeps her head down, but that doesn't stop the new guy at school from noticing her. There is something dark and sinister about him, but that only draws her closer. The only thing keeping them apart is their hatred for each other and...
