The Iron Witch

I thought you were going to CALL me? I call this texting ;-) The reply came back within seconds: I find it easier to take rejection in writing...

Dammit woman, stop trying to beat me. I'll sue you for domestic violence.

I don't think I believe in angels, that's all. And if you were one, that would mean I'd have to re-evaluate my beliefs. I'm not quite ready to do that.

At the ripe old age of seventeen, Donna had decided that "happily ever after" didn't exist for freaks like her.

Donna wasn't fooled by his lazy movements and sleep eyes - this guy was sharp, underneath the laid-back exterior.

The creature had nut-brown skin mixed with patches of ash. It was human-sized and formed, but its skin looked like the bark of an old, old tree. About the same height as Donna, it was spindly with arms and legs that were all joints and angles. Its face was narrow and pointed, with hair on top of its head like thick moss and narrow black eyes that glinted even in the dim light of the room. The thing’s body was clothed in lichen and moss, with vines twining around its sharp limbs. The creature opened its lipless mouth, a dark slash across its twisted face. Donna’s mind flashed back to the party and the shadow she’d seen sliding through the darkness outside Xan’s house. She hadn’t been imagining things, after all. The wood elves had returned to the city.

feeling a bit like cinderella, she made it home at two minutes past one last night.