Dragon Fire
Dina von Lowenkraft
Genre: YA
fantasy romance
Publisher:
Twilight Times Books
Cover
Artist: Renu Sharma
Book Description:
Some choices
are hard to live with.
But some
choices will kill you.
When
seventeen-year-old Anna first meets Rakan in her hometown north of the Arctic
Circle, she is attracted to the pulsing energy that surrounds him. Unaware that
he is a shapeshifting dragon, Anna is drawn into a murderous cycle of revenge
that pits Rakan and his clan against her best friend June.
Torn between
his forbidden relationship with Anna, punishable by death, and restoring his
family’s honor by killing June, Rakan must decide what is right. And what is
worth living – or dying – for.
Chapter 1
The Circle Tightens
The candle flickered in the
subzero wind but Anna made no move to protect it. She stopped on the hill in
front of Tromso’s three-year high school and watched the water of the fjord
shimmer below. Even though it was mid-afternoon there was no sun, just the
luminous reflection of the moon. The procession of students continued on without
her, leaving only the fading sound of crunching snow in their wake.
“You
seem as eager to go to Fritjof’s memorial vigil as I am,” June said, startling
Anna with her sudden appearance.
Anna
fingered the oval piece of bright orange coral that she had carried around like
a talisman since she was a child. She usually kept it in her pocket, but today
she wanted to feel its soothing energy closer and had it in her glove. She had
never liked Fritjof, and even though she wasn’t glad he had died, she wouldn’t
miss him.
She
turned to face June whose cobalt blue eyes were at odds with her otherwise
Asian features. June and her boyfriend had also been out on the mountain when
the avalanche claimed Fritjof. “I’m glad it’s not yours too,” Anna said. “I’d
really miss you.”
“It
would take more than an avalanche to kill me,” June said, trying to smile. But
Anna could feel her friend’s pain lurking under the surface.
“Hey.”
She wrapped an arm around June to comfort her. But as soon as her hand touched
June’s shoulder, a burst of energy exploded from her stone. Anna ripped off her
glove and the piece of coral went flying. “What the—”
June
spun around, pushing Anna behind her as if to protect her from an attack. She
scanned the area, her body tensed for a fight.
“Who
are you looking for?” Anna pressed her palm to dull the pain as she glanced
around the deserted hilltop. “Whatever it was, it came from my stone.”
June
relaxed her stance. “Are you okay?”
“I
think so.” Anna gestured towards the coral-colored sparks that crackled in the
darkness of the Norwegian winter. “What do you think it’s doing?”
“Don’t
know.” June crouched down to get a better look. Her hand hovered as a bright
green light flashed around the stone.
“Don’t
touch it,” Anna said sharply. Her stone had always had a special energy, but
never coral-colored sparks. Or green flashes of light.
“It’s
okay now.” June pulled her hand back. “Look for yourself.”
Anna
knelt next to June. The stone was dark and lifeless and she felt a sudden pang
of loss. She prodded it gingerly with her good hand, but felt nothing. She
picked it up. It was just a pretty bit of coral. The gentle pulsing energy that
she had liked so much was gone.
“Can
I see it?” June asked.
Anna
nodded, her throat constricted. The stone had always reminded her of her
father. Its energy was something he would have been able to feel too. The only other
person she had met so far who was open to that kind of thing was June. Everyone
else got freaked out, or thought she was crazy. So she had learned not to talk
about it.
June
closed her fist around the stone. “Where did you get this?” Her voice wavered.
Anna’s
attention flicked back to June. She never wavered. “I found it in the
mountains. Years ago. Why? What is it?”
“A
trigger.”
“A
trigger for what?”
June
returned Anna’s searching look. “I have no idea.” She handed the stone back.
“So
how do you know it’s a trigger?”
“I
just feel it.” June picked up the candles that lay forgotten in the snow. “If
you’re okay, we should go.”
Anna
picked up her discarded glove and froze. In the middle of her left palm was a
star-shaped scar. She stretched her hand to get a better look. It was about the
size of a dime. She touched it. Like an echo under the fading pain, she could
feel the energy of her stone pulsing faintly in her palm.
“Here,”
June said, offering Anna a candle. She stopped mid-motion. “What is it?”
“I
don’t know. The stone…” She held out her palm. “Look.”
June
dropped the candles and took Anna’s hand in hers. Gently, she ran her fingers
over the slightly raised ridges of the scar. “A Firemark,” June said as if
talking to herself. “But how…?”
“What’s
a Firemark?” Anna examined the scar. It was almost silvery in the moonlight.
June
looked up, her fingers still on Anna’s palm. “It’s like a living connection
between two people. But… there was only the stone.”
“It
always felt alive,” Anna said. She touched the Firemark one last time before
putting her glove back on. It was warm and smooth.
June
shook her head. “But even if it felt alive, it shouldn’t have left a Firemark.”
Anna
shrugged. “Maybe. But I like it.” Anna closed her hand around the Firemark. It
felt like she was holding her stone. She smiled. She’d never lose it now.
June
re-lit the candles again and handed one to Anna. “Ready?”
Anna
hooked her arm through June’s. “I think so.” They walked silently through town
and across the bridge that straddled the green-black fjord.
“Do
you think it’s over?” Anna eyed the Arctic Cathedral that sprawled like slabs
of a fallen glacier on the other side of the fjord. It was lit up like a temple
of light.
June
shook her head. “It’s only just begun.”
“That’s enough.” Khotan’s
voice snapped like a whip across the barren land of Ngari in western Tibet.
“You’re not going to kill her. I will.”
The
wind howled in agreement. Rakan bit back the urge to argue with his father
whose shaved head and barrel chest marked him as an Old Dragon. But Khotan’s
massive physique belied his diminishing power, and Rakan knew that his father
wouldn’t survive a fight with the female dragon they had finally located. He
had felt her power when she had set off his trigger just a few hours before.
And she was more powerful than any other dragon he had ever met. Rakan clenched
his fists. Blood for blood. It was the Dragon Code. And he would be the one to
honor it.
“You
need to start a new life here,” Khotan said, his hand like a claw of ice on
Rakan’s bare shoulder. “I will end the old.”
His
tone of voice, more than his touch, sent shivers down Rakan’s spine. But before
he could question his father, a flicker of red caught his attention and his
older half-sister, Dvara, materialized on the sparring field. Except she wasn’t
dressed to fight. She was wearing a shimmering red gown that matched the color
of her eyes and her black hair was arranged in an intricate mass of twisted
strands.
“It’s
too late to teach Rakan anything.” She made an unhurried motion towards the
targets at the other end of the field. One by one, they exploded with her
passing hand.
“We
weren’t practicing,” Rakan said calmly. “Although if we had been, you’d need to
start again. You used a trigger. You didn’t manipulate their structure on a
molecular level.”
“Who
cares?” Her Maii-a, the pear-shaped stone that every dragon wore to practice
manipulating matter with, sparkled like an angry flame at her throat. “They’ve
been demolished. And that’s all that counts in a fight.”
Rakan
slid his long black braid over his shoulder. “How you fight is just as
important as how you win.”
“I’d
rather stay alive,” Dvara said. “But you can die honorably if you want.”
“Neither
one of you will fight anyone,” Khotan said. “Remember that.”
Rakan
bowed his head. There was no point arguing about it now. But Dvara lifted her
chin defiantly. “Kraal was my father. I will avenge his death.”
Khotan
growled and stepped towards Dvara, dwarfing her with his size. He held her gaze
until she dropped her eyes. Rakan shook his head, wondering why Dvara always
tried to challenge Khotan’s authority in an open confrontation that she was
sure to lose. Khotan was the guardian of her rök, her dragon heart and the seat
of her power, and she had no choice but to abide by his will.
Their
mother, Yarlung, appeared without warning. “I will speak with Rakan’dzor.” She
crossed her arms over her white gown that sparkled with flashes of turquoise.
“Alone.”
She
waited, immobile, until Khotan and Dvara bowed and dematerialized, shifting
elsewhere. As soon as they were gone, her face relaxed and she turned to Rakan,
her nearly blind eyes not quite finding his. “I always knew you would be the
one to find her,” she purred. “You have the strength and the will of my
bloodline. And the time has come for you to use it.” Yarlung tilted her face to
the wind. “Kraal gifted me his poison before he died. Neutralized, of course.”
“But
no one can neutralize dragon poison.”
“Kairök
Kraal was a great Master. His death is a loss for us all.”
Rakan
struck his chest with his fist. “Paaliaq will pay for his death with her own.”
“Yes.
She will. And you will help me.” A faint smile played on her usually austere
face. “I will mark you with his poison so that we can communicate when
necessary.”
“Khotan
and Dvara have a full link, isn’t that enough?”
“You
don’t expect me to rely on secondhand information, do you?” snapped Yarlung.
She paused and spoke more gently. “Or are you scared to carry Kraal’s poison?”
Rakan
knelt down in front of Yarlung. “I will do whatever it takes to kill Paaliaq.”
His voice cut through the arid cold of the Tibetan plateau.
Yarlung’s
eyes flashed momentarily turquoise and Rakan stepped back as she morphed into
her dragon form. She was a long, undulating water dragon and the scales around
her head and down her throat glistened like wet opals. Without warning, a
bluish-white fire crackled around him like an electric storm. His mother’s
turquoise claws sank into his arms and pain sizzled through his flesh. The fire
disappeared and Rakan collapsed to the ground, grinding his teeth to keep from
screaming in agony.
He
would not dishonor his family.
“No, you won’t,” Yarlung said in his mind.
Rakan’s
head jerked up in surprise.
“You have just become my most precious
tool.” Her voice hummed with
pleasure. “You will not fail me.”
As
suddenly as the contact had come, it was gone. And so was his mother. Rakan
didn’t like it. Not her disappearance. That was normal. Yarlung had always been
abrupt. But he didn’t like hearing her in his mind. It was something only
dragons who were joined under a Kairök, a Master Dragon, could do. Few dragons
were able to survive the rush of power that happened when their röks awakened
without the help of a Kairök. But Rakan had.
He
gritted his teeth and stood up. If sharing a mind-link with Yarlung was
necessary to kill Paaliaq, then he would learn to accept it.
He
held his arms out to examine the dragons that had appeared where his mother’s
claws had dug into his biceps. They were long, sinuous water dragons like
Yarlung. But they were black, the color of purity, the color of Kraal. Rakan
watched the miniature turquoise-eyed dragons dance on his arms until they
penetrated under his skin. He felt a cold metallic shiver deep inside as they
faded from view.
A
rush of pride exploded in Rakan and he raised his arms to the frozen winter
sky, the pain like a blood pact marking his words. “I will avenge your death,
Kairök Kraal. The Earth will become our new home and your Cairn will once again
prosper.”
“You can drop me here.”
Anna glared at her mother’s boyfriend who reminded her of his namesake: a wolf.
Ulf
turned the car into Siri’s driveway and flashed his all too perfect smile. “Not
unless you want me to carry you in. Your shoes aren’t practical for walking in
the snow.”
Anna
snorted. “You’re one to talk. You’re the one driving a sports car in the
winter.” And she didn’t feel like having her teammates from the handball team
see it.
Ulf
threw his head back and laughed. “I only take it out for special occasions.
Like New Year’s.” He leaned towards her.
“Especially when I have the honor of accompanying a lovely lady.”
“You’re
not accompanying me. You’re dropping me off.”
“Precisely.”
He pulled up in front of the house that pulsed with music, revving his engine
one last time. He jumped out of the car and got to her side just as she was
opening her door. He offered her his arm. “And since I’m a gentleman, I’ll
accompany you to the door.”
Anna
ignored Ulf and struggled to get up while the dress she had decided to wear did
its best to slide all the way up her thighs. Ulf moved to steady her as she
wobbled in the high heels she wasn’t used to wearing but she pushed him away.
Her shoes slipped on the icy snow and she grabbed the railing, wondering why
she had decided to wear them.
“It
would be easier if you’d accept my help.”
“I
don’t need your help,” she said, walking up the stairs. When he followed
anyway, she turned to face him. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“As
a matter of fact… no,” said Ulf. He straightened his white silk scarf that
didn’t need straightening. “Ingrid won’t be off work until eleven.”
The
evening was cold and Anna regretted wearing a dress. “You’re not coming in.”
“We
can stand out here, if that’s what you prefer,” said Ulf, looking up at the
sky.
Randi
opened the door. “Anna! Finally,” she squealed. She threw herself at Anna. “I
didn’t know you were bringing someone.”
“I’m
not,” Anna said. “He’s leaving. Now.”
Randi
glanced at Ulf who was leaning elegantly against the railing in what could have
passed for a golden boy fashion shot. “Is that your boyfriend?” Randi asked
hanging onto Anna. She looked Ulf up and down. “Is that why you didn’t come
earlier?”
“Let’s
go in,” Anna said, trying to get Randi back in the house.
Ulf
slid an arm around Randi’s waist. “Perhaps I can help.”
“Oh
sure,” Randi said. She giggled as she leaned into Ulf. “You have a nice… car.”
“Leave
her alone.” Anna pried Ulf’s wandering hands away from Randi who was happily
wrapping her arms around Ulf’s neck. “Randi, knock it off.”
“Oh,
I’m sorry.” Randi pushed away from Ulf. “He’s yours. I forgot.”
“I’ll
take her,” said Siri, steadying Randi. “That way you guys can come in and take
your coats off.”
“Ulf
has a date,” Anna said. She blocked the door after Siri and Randi disappeared
inside. “With my mom. Or have you forgotten?”
“Sweet
little Anna.” Ulf reached out to touch her cheek with his leather gloved hand.
Anna
slapped it away. “Get away from me.”
“You’re
so adorable when you’re angry,” he said with a laugh. “Call me when you want me
to come for you.”
Anna
resisted the impulse to slam the door and closed it calmly instead. The living
room was packed with people dancing. She rubbed her forehead and walked over to
the dining room table that was laden with food and drinks instead. She’d never
understand her mom’s taste in men.
Siri
came and nudged her shoulder. “Where’s the guy you came with?””
“Gone,”
she answered, rolling her eyes. “Finally.”
“He
didn’t look your type,” Siri said with a shrug. “But you never know.”
“He’s
not. He’s my mom’s boyfriend. And
he’s a jerk.”
Siri’s
hand hovered over the massacred chocolate cake. “That’s a mess.”
“Tell
me about it.” Ulf was by far the worst of her mom’s recent boyfriends. He was a
liar and a manipulator. But her mom never saw beyond a pretty face.
Siri
dropped her voice. “Have you seen June? Is she coming?”
“No.
She went away with her boyfriend and his family for the vacation. Why?” Anna noticed
Siri’s look of relief. “Why?” she asked sharply.
“I
was worried that maybe she didn’t feel welcome. And I felt guilty. I mean… I’m
really sorry about Fritjof.” Siri paused. “But I’m starting to wonder why I
thought some of his ideas were good. I know you never liked him. But… I thought
he was right. About June being different and the need to keep our race pure and
all that.” Siri looked away. “I’m embarrassed I let myself believe any of it.”
“He
was persuasive, I guess.” Anna tried not to rub it in, but she was happy that
at least one friend was coming back around.
“Maybe.
But I really am sorry.”
“Tell
June after the break.” Anna put her glass up to Siri’s. “She’ll understand.”
“Why
are you girls being so serious?” boomed Anna’s cousin, Red. He put an arm
around each of them. “There’s music. You should be dancing. Or aren’t there any
nice guys?”
“Anna
never thinks there are any nice guys. But I see a few.” Siri raised her glass
and headed across the room that had started to get crowded now that a slow song
was playing.
“What
are you doing here?” Anna playfully punched her cousin who was built like a
rugby player. “You graduated last year. You’re not part of the team anymore.”
“We
told the guys that we’d be back,” said Red, nodding to where his best friend,
Haakon, was surrounded by half the boys’ team. “But we can’t stay – we promised
the girls we’d go to a dinner party. And they’ll kill us if we’re late.” Red
and Haakon had dominated the court with their size and skill for the past three
years, but neither of their girlfriends played.
“I’m
surprised they even let you out of their sight.” Anna waved a finger at her
cousin who had the same ultra blond hair and pale blue eyes as she did. “I’ve
hardly seen you at all this vacation.”
“I
know. We’ve been busy. But I’m here now.” The music picked up again. “Dance?”
He took her hand and then dropped it as if he had been stung. He grabbed her
wrist and turned her palm up, revealing the star-shaped Firemark. “Who did
this?” he growled, his face turning the telltale shade of red that had earned
him his nickname.
Anna
pulled her hand out of his and closed her fist. “No one.”
“A
mark like that can’t just appear.”
“Why
do you care what did it?”
“What
do you mean what did it?” Red gripped
her shoulders. “You were the one…?” Red’s voice trailed off, but his eyes bore
into hers as if he was trying to peer into her mind.
Anna
pulled back, breaking the contact. “What are you talking about?” She hadn’t
said anything about what had happened on the hill and June had left town right
after the vigil.
Red
laughed, but Anna could still feel his anger like a tightly coiled snake.
“Nothing,” he said. “Let’s dance.”
Dvara paced around the
massive table that filled the stone hall of Khotan’s lair. “Why are we waiting?
Paaliaq has had more than enough time to hide again.”
“That
is for Kairök Yarlung to decide,” Khotan said, using Yarlung’s official title
as the head of their Cairn. As Kraal’s mate, she had taken over after his
death.
“She’s
too busy with her political games to think about it.” Dvara snorted. “She’s
never had time for us anyhow.”
Rakan
looked up from the intricate wire sculpture he was making. “Maybe she just
wants to make sure you won’t throw yourself at Paaliaq in a hotheaded rage.”
“I’m
no fool.” Dvara leaned over the table towards her half-brother. “I won’t attack
until I’m certain to win. But I will attack. Unlike some I know.”
Rakan
stood, towering over her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Sit,”
Khotan said from his high-backed burgundy chair at the head of the table. “Both
of you.” He waited until they complied. “The only reason you’re going instead
of one of us is because Paaliaq won’t recognize you. Unfortunately, neither one
of you is experienced enough to trap Paaliaq
on your own.” Khotan looked from one to the other. “You’ll have to work
together. Remember that.”
“But
why did she set off one of Rakan’s old triggers?” Dvara hit the table with her
fist. “It makes no sense. Even a newborn whelp would have felt what it was
before touching it.”
Khotan
created a burgundy colored fireball that floated in front of him. “Either she
isn’t Paaliaq, or she’s luring you into a trap.” The stone walls reflected the
warm glow of the fireball. “This isn’t a game. And I wish we didn’t have to
send you.” Khotan’s face went blank for a split second as it always did when he
spoke mentally with another dragon. “Yarlung bids us come to Lhang-tso,” he
said, standing up. “Now.” Khotan disappeared without a sound, the fireball
still suspended in midair.
Dvara
followed in her stepfather’s trail, leaving Rakan to arrive last on the silver
shores of the intensely blue lake that was Kairök Yarlung’s home. They faced
the lake in their dragon forms. Khotan, an air dragon, rose on his burgundy
hind legs and bellowed their arrival.
The
blue-white coils of Yarlung’s water dragon form undulated majestically in the
center of the crescent shaped lake. Rakan had always felt a sense of awe in
front of his mother’s abode. Something about its starkness, the pungent salty
flavor of the wind that rolled off the lake, the beauty of the contrasting red
hills that surrounded it in the thin air of its 4,500 meter high perch had
always made him feel like he was in the presence of something profound. He
smiled and rocked back onto his own hind legs, stretched his majestic coral
wings and added his greetings to his father’s. Neither animal nor plant life
ventured near the lake. They were refreshingly alone. And free.
Dvara,
a compact fire dragon with only the shortest of wings, dug her claws into the
ground. She raised her jewel-like vermillion head and joined her voice to the
others’.
Yarlung
approached the edge of the lake and morphed into her human form. She signaled
for them to do the same. Flashes of turquoise glinted off her metallic white
dress. Rakan knelt next to his father and Dvara, his right fist on the center
of his chest where his rök pounded in excitement.
“Rise.
It is time,” Yarlung said, her voice snapping like thunder. “If the dragon who
set off Rakan’s trigger is Paaliaq, I will savor her death.” Yarlung paused and
then spoke again, more quietly. “If not, I will bind her to me by taking her
rök whether she wills it or not. But I believe she is Paaliaq. Too many things
confirm it. Including the presence of a male dragon who can only be her mate,
Haakaramanoth.”
The
wind howled across the lake.
“From
what our scouts have been able to gather these past three weeks,” Khotan said,
“she has created the illusion of being an untrained whelp and goes by the name
Jing Mei. But don’t be fooled by her innocent appearance.”
Yarlung’s
nostrils flared. “If she even begins to suspect who you are, she’ll kill you.
Pretend you’re untrained. Take your time and get close to her. But not too
close. Only one member of her Cairn is left and she will want to possess you
both. Starting with Rakan’dzor. She has always preferred males.”
“But
the Code forbids blood relatives to have the same Kairök,” Rakan said.
Yarlung
snorted. “Paaliaq has no honor. Never forget that.” She turned to Khotan. “Give
Dvara back her rök. Paaliaq will be suspicious if she doesn’t have it.”
“But
the risk…” stammered Khotan.
“Is
of no consequence. Do it. Now. And then bind her to you as Kraal taught you.”
“No,”
said Khotan. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Have
you become so frail that you can no longer master even that?”
Khotan
bowed his head. “May your will be done,” he said, saying the traditional
formula of submission to a Kairök. But Rakan could feel his father’s anger.
Dvara
tilted her chin and gave Rakan a look of triumph. She had wanted her rök back
ever since Yarlung had declared that he would keep his and remain independent.
But learning to control his rök had been harder than he had let on. Starting
with when he had morphed for the first time not knowing which of the three
dragon forms he would take. But even after he knew he was an air dragon, his
rök’s wild power had nearly overwhelmed him. It wasn’t until Khotan had taught
him to control his emotions that he could morph without fear of involuntarily
killing himself or his family.
Khotan
walked over to Dvara, his fluid black pants snapping in the wind. They stood
still, facing each other as equals even though Khotan loomed over Dvara’s
delicate figure. Khotan began a low chant in Draagsil, the ancient language of
the dragon race. He lifted his arms to the sky, his bare chest glistening like
armor. Energy crackled and began to circle him. It spun faster and faster until
Khotan was nothing more than a shimmering mirage in front of Dvara. A faint
drum-like beat began, steadily increasing in tempo as it grew louder. Suddenly,
the wind died and the beating stopped. A mass of pure vermillion energy licked
Khotan’s hands like the flames of a fire. The energy condensed in a flash of
vermillion light, leaving a bright red stone in Khotan’s palm. Dvara’s dragon
heart.
Khotan
held the egg-shaped rök to the sky before releasing it to hover above Dvara’s
head. It glittered like a crown jewel. “My will has been done. You are now your
own master. May your will be one with your rök.”
A
red flame moved up Dvara’s gown, circling her body until it reached her rök. The
rök ignited in a ball of wild energy. It spun around her in an uncontrolled
frenzy. It was going to kill her. Rakan sprang forward, desperate to catch
Dvara’s rök before it was too late, but Khotan stopped him. “No. Their reunion
can’t be interfered with. It must run its course. For better or for worse.”
The
rök lurched. Rakan stood ready to intervene if things got worse. Whether he was
supposed to or not, he wouldn’t stand by and watch her die. A brilliant flash
of intense vermillion encompassed Dvara, knocking her to the ground.
Yarlung
snorted in contempt. “Tend to her.”
Khotan
knelt next to Dvara and touched a hand to her forehead, healing her with his
energy. She latched onto Khotan, her red eyes echoing the wildness of her rök.
“Come,”
Khotan said, helping her to stand. “Do you accept of your own free will that I
mark you with Kraal’s neutralized poison and bind you to me in a partial link?”
“I
do.”
“And
do you understand the consequences of this act?”
Yarlung
growled her impatience, but Dvara didn’t take her eyes from Khotan’s.
“I
do,” Dvara said solemnly.
“What consequences?” thought Rakan, glancing at his mother.
But she ignored him.
Khotan
morphed and sank his claws into Dvara’s bare arms. Rakan watched, horrified, as
Dvara writhed by the edge of the lake in a mixture of rapture and agony. A
black winged air dragon with burgundy eyes danced on each arm before fading
under her skin.
“Go
now,” Yarlung said, her words lingering for just a moment after she
disappeared.
“Rakan…”
“Yes,
Father?”
“If
you need to contact us, send a message through Dvara.”
Rakan
nodded, confused. Didn’t his father know that Yarlung had marked him too?
Khotan
disappeared. It was time.
About the
Author:
Born in the US, Dina von
Lowenkraft has lived on 4 continents, worked as a graphic artist for television
and as a consultant in the fashion industry. Somewhere between New York and
Paris she picked up an MBA and a black belt. Dina is currently the Regional
Advisor for SCBWI Belgium, where she lives with her husband, two children and
three horses.
website: http://www.dinavonlowenkraft.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/vonlowenkraft
Pinterset: http://pinterest.com/vonlowenkraft/
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