Monday, March 30, 2009
She twitches in her sleep, a half smile on her face and her hand drifts to her pelvis. Gillian turns away from her beautiful dreamer, unwilling to intrude upon whatever passes for eroticism in her daughter’s mind. She drifts through the bedroom light as a cat, quiet as a spirit. There is nothing out of place in her daughter’s bedroom, but she is an extraordinary teenager. Lucy’s hunting bow is unstrung next to the wardrobe and her quiver of arrows. One of the hardened steel tips is still laced with blood. Gillian can’t resist licking it clean. She frowns. Goblin?