Madison had started to laugh.

“Brilliant. Maybe if the evil guy has a bunch of minions called wraiths or orcs ——"

“Hey, did you read this already?" Heda said with a sigh.

“Really, I've written the first paragraph like a zillion times. Everything has been done though. Ghosts, vampires, wraiths, werewolves, --"

“Were-eagles?"

“Surprisingly under represented in American literature, especially since we are the national symbol. But that would be a little bit like patting myself on the back."

“Can't have that. Seriously, you ever gonna read me some of your stuff?"

Heda covered her face.

"My short stories from high school were so lame, and don't get me started on the poetry."

["Poetry? Oh you HAVE to read me some of that! Don't make me go over your head and ask your mother."

"You wouldn't dare?!" Heda picked Madison up and tossed her onto the bed and proceeded to tickle the hell out of her. Madison was completely defenseless after just a few seconds, but she was Laughing so hard it didn't matter. Then Heda covered her mouth with her hand.

"Shh! You'll wake the others."

"You started it," Madison muttered in reply, realizing that Heda was sitting astride the bat-shifter's midsection. A quick scan showed that Heda now had other things on her mind besides tickling.

"Say something," she asked suddenly.

"Poetry."

Heda actually blushed. She was used to asking Madison to speak and to use that sexy voice, but now the tides were turned. Poetry? That was a bit romantic, and romance wasn't usually her thing. But what?

She remembered a poem by Robert Browning that she had always liked, and she began to recite it.

"The grey sea and the long black Land;

And the yellow half-moon large and low;

And the startled little waves that leap

In fiery ringlets from their sleep,

IAs I gain the cove with pushing prow,

And quench its speed i‘ the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;