“We have the witch on our side.” Moon sat in bed next to Vix and elbowed her friend. Ayla’s packing was taking an inordinate amount of time. Indeed, according to the witch, she would not be done packing for a full three days. Vix had recieved the news gratefully. It meant that she might have three days without danger or conflict. Three days respite from the war which raged hither and thither throughout Lesbia.
She nodded in acknowledgement of Moon’s words. They did have the witch. Ayla was not what or who she had expected. A twisted angry crone, Ayla was not. The woman was beautiful, sensual, mature… and a dozen more adjectives all of which served to tantalize and excite.