The shamans finished their supplication to the gods, and the dance for midsummer fires was beginning. Dakshana hated shaman magic; the air burned with runes that blistered her palms, and she knew their magic was tainted. She took a deep breath, prayed to the stars for strength, and began to dance. The music dulled the heat of magic; another heat filled the air. She twirled, shimmied, swayed, fell into unison with her sisters. She reached the far side of the fire, and a hunter stepped into her path.
His smile pierced her consciousness like lightning.
He said, "My name is Chadstone."
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