JASMINEThe coachman didn’t speak. His jaw clenched for the briefest of moments but then he rolled his eyes dismissively. Before they glazed over as Elsa’s had not long before, I extended my already long, sharp claws, and then dug them deep into his belly.The coachman shrieked as blood splattered out and my voice hardened.“Don’t play tricks or attempt anything stupid,” I warned him. “Next time, it’ll be your neck. I don’t want to repeat myself again. Answer my question. Who is your Master?”A whimper escaped him. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen the Master’s face. He’s always wearing a mask. We receive orders and then we obey, no questions asked.”“That seems convenient,” I remarked annoyedly, and just as I started to raise my claws, he continued to speak.“I m-m-met the Master when I was begging for f-food on the street,” he stammered. “I was kicked aside by a group of well-dressed wolves… they hurt me and then laughed as they walked away. It was humiliating. The Master saved and tr
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