Terror stalks the streets of Bree, clad in a green gown, with a flaming torch in one hand and a gutting knife in the other. Frightened residents huddle behind their barred doors. Dogs run - if they can. Screams break the night silence as the Gibbering Lady claims another victim, and, next morning, another corpse decorates the gutters.
None of these corpses wears rose, and so the terror continues.
This, of course, has nothing to do with me. There isn't even any direct proof that the Gibbering Lady is connected to Harperella in any way. It certainly wasn't my fault if Harperella took offense, I was just trying to be nice. Lots of ladies would be delighted to get a voucher for 80% off their next liposuction and nose job at the Bree Beauty Clinic. And it isn't like Harper couldn't use it. Just saying.
Still, it's fortunate that my Fool has had to go away for a while, leaving me free to barricade myself into one of Madame Celestine's franchise establishments. Not in Bree, of course, but I'm not free to say exactly where. That would be foolhardy.
With luck I will be able to reappear in a few weeks.