On the nights when the full moon is rising, we must all answer to the master's call. His pack will sniff out any who remain in the village. Instead, it is time for us all to gather in the town square, free of silver and fire--though they find it great fun if we bring other weapons. One is chosen to be prey, and then the Wild Hunt pours after him or her. Usually they come back the next day, shaken, maybe injured. Sometimes they never come back at all, and then the death-gold shows up at the door of the person's hut. Very, very rarely, they come back bracketed by two other people from the hunt in their human form, wearing the uniforms of their master. Then they don't stay. They simply say goodbye to their families, write out a will for everything they owned when they crossed over to the hunt, and go. They never hug their wives, never embrace their children. The other ones see to that. I didn't understand until it happened to me. I never would have guessed that I would be one of those who came back to say goodbye.


Inspiration: "Answer to the Master" - Def Leppard (and yes, I'm a bit embarrassed about that)
Story potential: High, which surprises me.
Notes: I thought this was going to be boring until I got to the ones who come back. And I know the character who's speaking--a young village girl who doesn't look like much but was somehow impressive enough on the hunt to be "recruited." Boy howdy, culture shock awaits! From village life to guarding/acting for European royalty? And secret history politics? Maybe. Not sure if I want to do all the history research to really get a secret history going, since I have a crap memory and I'm not a history buff, but anyway...could also just be a world with magic and still all the European political crap to deal with.

They congregated beneath the spreading boughs of the yew tree, the full moon rising up to hover between the trees branches like horns. They congregated in silence, the only sound the shush of their robes moving over the dry autumn grass. They congregated with their heads bowed, knowing that their needed goal today was not a happy one. Few there wanted to do what had to be done, but all had read their scrying bowls and knew that it was the only thing they could do to save themselves. Still, they shuddered a little as they thought of it. They knew that if they did not do this thing, soon the invaders would wipe out their people, destroy their faith, and trample their name into the ashes. Still, they did not like the idea of having to become monsters to be remembered.

Inspiration: "congregated"
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: Hmm. A bit interesting, but nothing too cool here.