[piosenniel]

Max buried his head beneath the small accent pillow in the armchair. Who knew The Wight was into decorating? he thought to himself. Further ruminations included his thought that if he couldn’t see the cat, the cat could not see him. Unfortunately, his plump Puggy backside offered a tempting target for The Beast . . .

Pio wandered over to where Child stood, and dipped her arm into her friend’s bag. ‘Bagels! Yumm!’ she fished around for the lox or at least a smear of cream cheese. Her attention was caught by the mention of wings.

‘Hot sauce!’ she cried out. ‘And blue cheese dressing . . . and a few celery sticks, if you don’t mind.’

‘It’s a “discussion”!’ hissed a nearby serving-wraith. ‘Not the menu!’

‘Ratz! Well now you know why I’m never in the Books Forum . . .’

‘Indeed,’ sniffed the wraith, removing the stale cigar from its perch behind Pio’s ear.