Help us reach our goal!

Feb 13, 2025

Hi! We’re entering the final stretch! ⏳ The Robin of Larkspur Kickstarter ends this Wednesday, February 19 at Midnight ET—and I’d love for you to join me on this epic journey before it’s too late.

(This is Melinda again, your scribe. Ran is refreshing the campaign like crazy and watching it like a sport. I think he’s really into it. Should I be concerned?)

✨ Don’t miss out on:

5 fully illustrated books with never-before-seen artwork and chapter imagery.
Collectible formats like gold-foil hardcovers and sprayed-edge paperbacks.
The chance to celebrate strong heroines, family bonds, and breathtaking adventures.

🌟 Are you a fantasy or collector’s edition fan? Then this limited chance is for you!

Join 100s of backers who have already grabbed these exclusive editions:
👉 Reserve Your Special Edition HERE

The hunt ends next Wednesday—don’t let it slip through your fingers!

Thank you for being part of this adventure. Let’s hit the final milestone together!

– Melinda

And now back to the excerpt of:

Hunter’s Night

By Melinda Kucsera

Chapter 1, part 3

The Huntress scowled as she danced aside to avoid the kick Robin had aimed at her. She must drive that creature away from her daughter. Robin frowned when her booted foot didn’t connect with its intended target. Damn, she had so looked forward to sinking her cleated sole into that creature’s face. Well, at least she’d put some space between them.

But Robin was still on the ground, which was a bad place to be a moment later when the enraged Huntress stomped down with her cloven hooves. Robin threw her knife, missed the skinny deer-woman—damn that canny bitch—and had to roll quickly out of the way of another silver hoof aimed at her abdomen.

Robin slammed into another body. Thankfully, this one was supine and much taller than she was. Oh, thank God, Fate, whoever was listening—an ally at last! Robin shook that blanket-wrapped bundle for all she was worth, hoping her fellow traveler was still alive and armed. The two warrior women sharing her campsite were a lucky find. Fortunately, they’d decided to team up with Robin for a while. What luck that was. Three women traveling together made a less enticing target, especially when they were all armed.

“Wake up! We’re under attack.”

Strella groaned and rolled onto her side, batting Robin’s hands away. How could anyone sleep through this? Strella must really be exhausted. “Then let Cat deal with it. It’s her watch. Mine just ended,” Strella mumbled into her arm.

“Get up before you wake up as a shade in the Gray Between Life and Death.”

But Strella just snored. Damn her. All that hiking must have caught up with her.

Robin ducked, and a knife just missed her head. She grabbed the first thing that came to hand—a rucksack—and thrust it in front of her like a shield. Why had she sacrificed her knife earlier? Robin could just imagine the lecture her father would have given her if he’d been there. Stupid, stupid, she was better than this.

The Huntress slit the bag open, spilling woolen socks onto the canvas floor, but it stopped her next jab before that wicked blade could do more than graze Robin’s red leather brigandine. Robin grabbed a relieved breath when the Huntress frowned.

“Having some trouble?” Robin asked when the Huntress couldn’t jiggle her blade free. Now, that was more like it. Robin smiled. The Huntress’ knife was caught on something inside the rucksack, so Robin shoved the sack at the Huntress’ face, and the back of the creature’s hand thwacked her pert little nose.

“You bitch,” seethed the now bleeding Huntress.

“Yeah, yeah, cry me a river. It’s just a little nosebleed.” And maybe a broken nose too, but Robin wasn’t sure about that since her opponent wasn’t completely human.

Robin chucked another bag at the Huntress to keep her off balance. The bassinet was nowhere in sight, but Rosalie was here somewhere. She must be. The tent wasn’t that large. So why hadn’t she made so much as a peep since the fight had begun?

“Rosalie?” Panic bloomed in her chest, as Robin shoved another bag into the path of the lunging Huntress. It was half the size of a person and just as wide. When the Huntress dodged it, her hooves caught on a tangle of wet clothes Strella must have stripped off after her watch, and that deer-woman went down. Good, maybe she’d stay tangled up for a little while. Robin nudged her traveling companion again in passing. “Get up! Death’s here for a dance, so let’s give her one.”

But Strella didn’t rise from her blankets at that stirring speech, nor did the large lump under the blanket budge when Robin shoved her a third time. Where was Cat? Was she still fighting out there? How many more of these creeps were there?

In answer, the wind screamed through the mountain pass and pummeled the tent again, ripping one of the tent poles out of the ground. Robin wrestled with yards of unruly canvas as the tent suddenly embraced her. The Huntress crouched, making a smaller target for the wind-whipped canvas to strike until the wind calmed. When it did, the tent listed to one side. One more blow would knock it down then Rosalie would be unprotected against the elements.

The Huntress remained hunched and partially hidden by the sagging canvas. She withdrew a second knife from her sheath. Where was the first one?

“Nice knife. I’ll take it from your cold dead fingers.” Robin shoved loose canvas out of her sightline.

“I’d love to see you try.” The Huntress extended a forked black tongue and licked her blade. The bloody thing had canine teeth running along its edge, and it looked as hungry for her blood as its wielder. Oh goody, not only would she die, but she might end up on the menu tonight.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into now?” Robin wondered aloud. She thought she’d left all her troubles behind when she’d lit out on the trail seeking a new life. Apparently not.

Cold seeped through Robin’s clothes as she fumbled through her gear for a weapon or something to throw—anything would do. Her bow case would be great right now. It was wooden and as long as a quarterstaff. Where was it? Her numb fingers turned up baby paraphernalia but no bassinet, baby or bow case. Damn it. Where were they?

“Where’s my baby?”

The question hung between them while Robin’s thoughts spun in a tight, terrified circle. She shut down that line of thought before panic turned her into a gibbering wreck and tossed three dirty diapers and a rattle in quick succession. The Huntress dodged the cloth poo-bombs but caught the rattle and did a suggestive hip wiggle before pocketing it. She smirked at Robin, and her eyes glinted in the half-dark.

Robin swallowed, and fear burned all the way down to the worried fist clenched in her belly. “Where’s my daughter?”

A heavyweight slammed into Robin, knocking her down onto her belly as a new combatant barreled into the tent, collapsing it. A second and a third creature followed him, and several hooves stepped on her back before Robin could roll out of the way. Only the tough leather of her brigandine kept those hooves from biting into her flesh.

Pain lit Robin up, but it was a dull roar compared to the fear for her daughter squeezing her chest. Please don’t trample her. She’s just a baby. Robin tried to throw her arms over her head to shield it, but she was all tangled up in the canvas. Something hard collided with her head, and the world winnowed away as an ululating war cry rang out.

“Strella? Did you finally get up?” Robin tried to ask, but everything faded to black before she could get the words out. Forget me. Save my baby. Robin sent that wordless plea into the darkness to anyone who was listening. Then, she finally passed out.

***

That’s it for this week. Check out the Kickstarter & Back the Campaign to get an illustrated copy of Hunter’s Night and the rest of the series!

Have a great week!