Vixen sped across the neatly manicured lawns like a moon shadow, her random sweeps and turns designed to throw off anyone targeting her. She reached the stone walls of the manor house and climbed, using the claws on the palms of her leather gloves to grip the irregularities of the old sandstone blocks.
A trickle of dried mortar scattered across her books as she pulled herself over the parapet. The cupola over the centre of the house loomed above her. Her research had shown her that the stairwell that connected it the upper galleries was the easiest point of entrance.
© Rachel Green 2007