I'm done holding back.

I start walking towards the farmstead, my claws gleaming in the torchlight. I was going to eat tonight, regardless of what I had to do. I was sick and tired of being hated for something I didn't do; for something I had no control over.

There would be hate at the end of this night, but I would earn it!

But I couldn't just barge in. I had black talons, night vision, minor magic I had no control over, and narcotic semen. My strength wasn't much, and I wasn't a fighter; my family had been merchants. I could count, and read, and do complex sums, but that wouldn't help me here.

I had to think. My imagination was the only real weapon I had. More than my knife, more than my abilities, it would be the application of them that would save me. I crouched low, careful to stay away from sight as I entered the soft firelight. I watched the window for movement as I approached, ready to sprint if anyone entered my sightline.

I reached the wall of the cottage without incident, breathing shallowly. I stopped beneath one of the torch lanterns, running my hand over the wire hilt of my knife.