swan attack
After leaving behind the Boston squirrel-vermin, I thought I was safe. I can't even remember the last time I made eye contact with one of those beady-eyed little rat-squirrels-- running past the nut vendor with their scraggly, bedraggled little tails limply dragging behind them, or grimly clinging to the rim of a public garden wastebasket. But it was a false sense of security that I had, as proven by the events of this afternoon. Lucas Einstein's girlfriend, Jess, was cornered between the shrubbery and the moat, and attacked by one of the latently vicious black swans that roam the castle grounds. In the tender spot behind her knee, the blunt force of the swan's bright beak left a dark, mottled, lascivious bruise. I gasped when she rolled up her bluejeans to brandish her wound.