Deepwood Weald You can't keep them all caged

If Haedwig was any younger of any less arthritic, she would have lunged to tear her a new hole in that pretty pelt. Today, she would have to settle for thinking, silently to herself, that the stranger was a total harlot. Well, worse than that, but I'd have to mark this as mature.

She grunted, taking the garlic she had dug up and going on her way. If Haedwig had her way, she would never see that old hussy again.