The coven had hurriedly convened, as the rumour throughout the land was that the mendicants were on the move. The last thing the coven needed was any interference from those meddlesome friars who had taken it upon themselves in past times to disrupt the coven purge it from the land and in doing so drive them from their homeland.
It had come to a head with the discovery of the river nymph, a knot of musk tied around her neck, her body normally an alabaster shade was now the shocking orange red of tangerine, and so unceremoniously dumped in the thicket at the town gates.
The entire village was nervous, as they should be for when the friars took it upon themselves to move, it didn’t surprise anyone to discover Mistress Case, the village herbalist, her throat slashed leaving a gaping wound for all to see the ferocity of their attack. It was meant to strike fear and it did.
Was it any wonder then that night that the coven’s usual enthusiastic chanting was somewhat discordant as the members stole furtive glances over the shoulders the entire evening?
The last thing the coven needed was a albatross slung around their necks as they went about their witchy business, for that is what the mendicants would do, parade them as omens of ill fortune, discrediting them in the eyes of the village who up until now had been in support of them.
All that was possible of course, should the coven not act first.