A whaft of air tousles your hair mere seonds before you appear to glimpse some movement out of the corner of your eye. Glancing in the direction of the suspected movement only to find nothing is there.  Then you hear a melodic laughter from the opposite direction that you were looking.


Pray tell gentlefolk, wouldst Thee hath any knowledge of a Person named Peter. asks an exotically shapely femine diminutive form; hovering just out of reach of staff or pole swing, a open friendly smile teasing her stunning face.