She seem’d, at once, some penanced lady elf,
Some demon’s mistress, or the demon’s self.
John Keats ‘Lamia’

Antaidian Lolamia Peet crouched, naked, under the windowsill, looking out at the gardener as he walked in the yard.  Old shoes scuffing pebbles. His lips moved. He was probably muttering to himself. He always did. He had almost caught her once. She had been crouching again (perhaps this is an unfortunate position to be in. must explore standing up…), this time under the bush where he had buried the dead kitten in the spring thaw…

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InGlorious01