Robyn Hogan

With the aid of a rough sketch they located the little house, jostling its mate up against the fortress walls of Spain’s old Peniscola castle. Five storeys tall, one room wide, with a balcony jutting above the dusty lane.

Impulsively, Katie grabbed Ian’s hand, almost skipping with excitement. ‘Isn’t it cute?’

‘Not so fast,’ Ian cautioned, freeing his hand from hers, opening the briefcase, locating the keys and selecting the one that would fit the bright blue door. ‘Talk about flush with the street! Not even a doorstep.’ (more…)

Leta lay in the early morning dappled shade of the oak forest licking her paws, watching them lengthen, the hair become sleek and slight as her human shape returned. Her tongue, rough and salivary, worked the cream coloured hairs diligently, grooming them into the crevices between her claws. Occasionally, she nipped crossly at the nails or ground her teeth along the bone ridges, frustration drying her mouth, her gums hardening with anxiety. (more…)