"Luke, about yesterday—the village—what will you do about it?" I questioned him, blowing hot breath into my free hand in an attempt to warm it up. We were outside of the manor, taking a little stroll in the snow-covered field. "There is definitely something strange about it."
"I know," he stopped walking, taking my other hand in his to warm it with his heat. "I've already sent someone there. He should be back tomorrow—or two days at most."
"What do you think happened to those people? They looked... inhuman."
"My best guess would be witchery," he said, rubbing his thumbs on both of my hands and gently squeezing them. "Actually—that's my only guess. There's nothing else that could possibly turn humans into something like that."
But why? A few ideas came to mind, but none of them were worthy of being called the answer. None were fitting enough.
