They are trapped, frozen. Waiting. Straining against the wood that holds them. The unwary catch a glimpse now and then - feel their desperate hunger, see a glint of red eyes - and scurry out of the shadows of the wood, back to the light. She's coming; it will be soon. They will run free on the moors again. The Hunt will return. And the ground will run with blood. An ancient curse placed on a family of witches foretells that twins will be born - one good, one evil; and one will destroy the other. But who can be trusted when no one is as they seem?