We should have known she was a changeling from the moment she came home. Some time during those three years away at university she must have made a deal with the fae, traded the untradeable and been unable to pay the price.
I reckon the first true sign that she wasn't herself was the way she'd tilt her head whenever someone did something clumsy or awkward, something that the perfect fae could never bring themselves to do like fumble for a pen or struggle to tie their shoelaces. She used to be the first to offer help but since she came back she just stares, tilts her head and walks away muttering to herself.
Maggie says she'd known since she spied that the girl wasn't wearing her grandmother's ring, the iron one she'd been given for protection and good luck. Apparently that set off all of Maggie's alarms which explains why she's been threading everyone's gates with iron and sprinkling salt on our boundary lines and window ledges.
Do you remember how she always used to swear by that dog of hers? Swear that she'd never let anybody enter if the dog didn't trust them. Well, I found her on the curb bawling her eyes out, said the dog didn't trust her any more so now she has no home.
I'd say this means she's one of the harmless changelings but for Michael's claims that she's killed and eaten all his chickens and now sleeps in the blood soaked coop. If she's still there by sunrise then she'll be guilty enough to put in irons. Tis a slow way to go but the safest way to dispose of a changeling.
So long as their kin don't know then we'll all be safe again.
I reckon the first true sign that she wasn't herself was the way she'd tilt her head whenever someone did something clumsy or awkward, something that the perfect fae could never bring themselves to do like fumble for a pen or struggle to tie their shoelaces. She used to be the first to offer help but since she came back she just stares, tilts her head and walks away muttering to herself.
Maggie says she'd known since she spied that the girl wasn't wearing her grandmother's ring, the iron one she'd been given for protection and good luck. Apparently that set off all of Maggie's alarms which explains why she's been threading everyone's gates with iron and sprinkling salt on our boundary lines and window ledges.
Do you remember how she always used to swear by that dog of hers? Swear that she'd never let anybody enter if the dog didn't trust them. Well, I found her on the curb bawling her eyes out, said the dog didn't trust her any more so now she has no home.
I'd say this means she's one of the harmless changelings but for Michael's claims that she's killed and eaten all his chickens and now sleeps in the blood soaked coop. If she's still there by sunrise then she'll be guilty enough to put in irons. Tis a slow way to go but the safest way to dispose of a changeling.
So long as their kin don't know then we'll all be safe again.
No comments:
Post a Comment