Esme stormed across the weathered floorboards of her seaside shop. Displays of enchanted sea-glass and metal pendants swung in the wake of her temper, clinking like warning chimes.
Jack froze, his hand half-in, half-out of the small wooden chest that usually stayed beneath the counter, away from customers’ curious gazes.
A. K. R. Scott
The squat, knobby she-troll brandished a teapot in one hand and motioned for Idra to sit with the other. “Something bracing, yes?” she rasped.
Idra nodded as she settled onto the spongy toadstool opposite her hostess. With a tip of her gnarled hand, the she-troll filled a china cup with strong, black tea, then offered it up.