[tar-ancalime]

Werewolves? My stars. I will miss that poor, poor Glirdan and Gil. I know they never threw eggs at my beautiul house like some young folk.

I'm sure that my second cousin thrice removed was a mandibular lycosophist. It was years and years ago, of course, when we still had the other country place and all the family would meet in the summer. Before I started taking care of my babies.

*plucks a hissing cat off Fea's shoulder and addresses it*

I know dear, you don't like the way she buffed your nails. But she told me squared-off tips are the thing this year, and frankly we've got to take what we can get when it's free.

Where was I? My cousin Horace. Of course. He had a bit of a walleye as I recall but he did study werewolves. Now I'm sure I've got some of his old papers back at the house in the old pigeonhole desk.

*hurries home, not noticing the rapidly unravelling sweater sleeve that is caught on another cat's squared-off claw, then returns with a stained, dusty parchment*

My goodness, it has been some time since I've dusted in all those pigeonholes.

Now Horace says in this letter to my aunt Phlox that werewolves are terribly hard to kill. Apparently you can't just shoot them, since during the day they look like the rest of us. Good heavens, it seems the only way for us to avenge Glirdan and Gil, and rid ourselves of this horrible menace, is by lynching.

It's a bad, bad business and I can only wish it over.