Every monster in the kingdom bows to you. Your guild wants to know why. So do you.
You are the Catchers' Guild's best hunter: twenty-three contracts, none lost. Since your last one, every monster in the kingdom bows its head to you. Your oldest rival has been sent to prove you a witch and bring you home.
You stand knee-deep in marsh water under Ferrow Ford Bridge, a wet net in your fist and a contract for one man-eating troll.
The troll comes up out of the black water, looks at you, and lowers his great head until his chin touches the water. Bow count: twelve.
On the road above, your oldest rival lowers his crossbow. He is counting too.
Torches crowd the bank. One beast that obeys and one sworn witness make a witch.
The guild's best hunter: rope, snares, whetstones, wax seals. You read terms, you finish the job, and you have learned not to ask questions.
Second best in the guild: lean, sun-browned, black hair tied with a bowstring, a nose that healed crooked. He has never lost track of a number in his life.
The bridge troll of Ferrow Ford: huge, mossy gray-green hide, river stones grown into his shoulders, small amber eyes and a rusted iron ear ring. The guild calls him a man-eater.
Reeve of Ferrow village: stout, ruddy, thinning red hair, a reeve's chain on a muddy blue doublet. He sealed your contract in wax and wants it finished.
Someone in Hollowmark is waiting for Rennick's report. Keep reading.
Someone taught you to skip the questions. Keep reading.
Where you start: black marsh water to the knee, and the croak of frogs going silent all at once.
Wax and wet dog and whetstone grit; a wall of unclaimed bounty seals.
Monsters keep beyond the Ferrow river. The truce holds, for now.
Sealed in wax with the hunter's thumbprint. A contract broken unfinished voids the license, and an unlicensed hunter may not carry a bow on the king's roads.
A hunter whom beasts obey is judged a witch on one sworn witness, who must be a licensed Catcher. The judged hunter is exiled past the Ferrow, among the monsters she hunted.
RomanceYou killed him tonight. He's alive, wearing the twin of your ring. At dawn, the Queen announces your engagement.
RomantasyHe is the prince of the kingdom you swore to hate. In forty-nine days the seventh trial needs one victor, or war returns.
RomantasySoonYou owe him three favors. Leave one unpaid by the longest night, and you turn to stone.
RomanceA jar of love in your vault has your name on it. The man who pawned it has no idea who you are.