October 17, 2004
“It’s all right,” Kendra reassured the scared-looking boy – man, legally – in front of her. “I have a trust fund.”

It, in this case, was the little pink lines on the stick in front of her, which would bring her number of children to something between eight and 11, considering her luck.

And add that much more money to the “trust fund.” Regine liked babies. Luckily, so did Kendra.

October 17, 2012

There wasn’t supposed to be anyone out here. There weren’t supposed to be any threats like this within a hundred miles of this city.

But the human at her door had suddenly grown fangs and started spitting out Workings.

“Get inside.” She snapped it to her youngest child’s father, who was probably old enough to know better. “Falke. Get the youngers and get them under cover.”

She grabbed her walking stick – 6 feet of hawthorn, with the thorns still in the top foot – and blocked the door. “You’re not getting anywhere near my kids, you bastard.”

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