Astra's travels had went well that day. Well they had, though, she
reminded herself. She shuddered to think of what might happen if she
hadn't put this much distance between herself and the peak of
Cicatrice. Oh, but the tales that child told... She had been doubtful of Lady Andrea Croix's usefulness before, but the child knew such lore! It was most odd, and Astra wondered to herself who could have taught Andrea that much knowledge. The damning tale, though, was that of the Ergot. The young woman speaking of it caused Astra to be awash in hazy memories of her experiences in the Labyrinth, and her taking of the strange door marked with the wolf's paw. Though it had remained buried until Andrea spoke, she half remembered how she was clubbed on the back of the head, and vague impressions of something spongy being shoved in her mouth, no doubt the mushrooms. Then she remembered the change. It was horiffic. That was the only word she could find for it. She remembered the wrenching feeling as it siezed her. She remembered watching in the reflecting pool as her features twisted into a strange wolfish parody of herself. She remembered the dark impulses she barely choked back. Then there was the dragon. He stood over her, bending her to his will, claiming she would be his revenge. She was so confused by what he was saying. Until now. Andrea's words had the ring of truth to them. She was infected, and carried the disease of the Ergot within her veins. The full moon would rise, and she would change, and perhaps this time she would not be so strong. She might give in to the impulses, those dark, savage urges. Her fangs would bear the contagion while she stalked, Andrea had said that too, and those she bit would share her curse come a month's time. Astra sat down and reclined against a tree. She had a few hours left, she might as well relax. So, watching the sunset, she awaited moonrise as if it was a deathknell.
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9/27/1999 6:02:24 PM
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