The fortress shook as the gates splintered.

With one last heave, the stag of hollow bone lowered its antlered skull and charged. The iron bent like wax. Wood burst into shrapnel. Wolves reeled back, covering their faces as the barrier we had trusted crumbled into ruin.

Through the smoke, the Huntress rode in.

Her spear dripped moonlight. Her eyes were winter and death.

And behind her poured the Hunt wolves wreathed in silver mist, their claws passing through steel, their fangs rending flesh ...