EnglishDamsel

A sickle moon hung in the sky. A soft breeze whispered with the sounds of eons. Darkness had settled across the grounds of York Manor. To the north, an eldritch mist was creeping though the woods The night lay hunched, ready to pounce. There was a promise in the air. The promise of adventure. Not the adventure Lady Penelope had in mind, thought Jay as he let her Ladyship take him by the hand. They were heading to the stables. A spur of the moment thought by Penelope. She does make a career our of impulsive decisions. Some of them save the day, others invite peril. And there were the ones made with a twinkle in those sapphire blue eyes that made resistance futile. Jay was good at resistance, but Penelope’s company was always to be treasured. Though a midnight jaunt with the horses was asking a little too much. It had been a long day. Only last week, Penelope had attended the arraignment of her evil Aunt Seymour. Her psychotic plans at inheriting York Manor by insisting on a early