Gwyn watched with a smile. ?Not as agile as a real doggy, are you?? She let loose an uproarious laughter and continued to watch Eliza struggle. ... No, no, damnit! I have to get the hell out of here! She flopped around for several minutes before resting on her back, exhausted, each of her limbs thrust painfully upwards. Gwyn bent down and rubbed Eliza's belly, still laughing at the futility of Gywn's actions. "Oh, no need to get worked up, little doggy. I'm going to take. Once we had settled in at Londinium and I was under slightly less restrictive supervision, I replaced my tears with curses. I had squandered my inheritance, just as the prodigal son in the parable. It was only when I began to read the gospels I had managed to smuggle in my clothes that my mood began to brighten. For had not the prodigal son been welcomed with open arms by his father when he repented? And had not Peter betrayed Christ three times before dying a glorious witness to his grace?. More

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