Enjoy this sample from my fantasy novel Cavels Colt by JLNich

          “When some speak of the Shadow Monster in hushed tones, they speak of this creature my father once gazed upon.  In the cities, some brag of hunting it down.  For, it is said to collect the riches of those it attacks and to hoard all in its secret cavern.  But the tales grow larger and larger, speaking of riches beyond knowing.

          My father always frowned and avoided such talk.  He was not a believer to make light of such truths.  And as he left that place those odd thirty years ago, he never once spoke to me of his belief in the hunt versus the hunted.  He was a farmer.  What could he offer as to that which he did not understand?  He told me the story, I think mostly to keep the record straight and to allow me to see that monsters and men can oft resemble each other when greed is present.”

          Trena nodded and gave a little smile but inside she was trying to puzzle out if the offered tale held a moral.  Perhaps one told to children to warn and provide guidance from a parent.

          “I think he meant to warm me of the type of man such as the merchant of such greed of his sale enough to face the evils.  And such that the creature had the greed on him to attack the guarded force of wagons.  But he was unsure since the merchant was left with his gold and his life.  And yet the tale was the least of it.  On that day, he found this.”  Arata held out her arm and pushed up her sleeve.  She revealed a thin circlet that gleamed hidden beneath the cloth.  It was a single strand bracelet she’d kept hidden from her capture’s.  She gently unclasp it and held it up.  A quick spinning motion between two fingers and it unraveled outward to an exotic fluffy looking feather.  An etched golden feather.

          Trena was fascinated.

          Arata handed it over and Trena felt its weight.  It was as heavy as the presumed gold it was made of.  She’d never seen anything like it.  The twirling sounded musical as the filaments of the finest gold brushed each other.  The fire gleamed against the gold and yet the darkness faded some of it to shadow.

          “It fell from the monster.  My father found it on the hillside nearby.  He spoke of a spot of blood as well but did not touch it.  A blood haze can be formed from less.”  Arata made a small symbol with her fingers to repute any evils.  “He even told me the name of the place.  It’s been years but I’ve not forgotten.  He said the attack took place in Mahran Valley.  He described a huge clump of trees where no birds spoke.  I gift this story to you.”