She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. But all normal humans smelled wonderful to her, even dirty ones. Shortly to be executed. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. "Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. “I lied, as I would have committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. “Katy Pfister.
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