Inside were musty old rooms stripped of all but dusty old books, peeling paint, and treasures under stretching old iron roof sheets baking in the African sun. But it was home and it had been for ages. It kept me away from them, away from those that hung by the rafters, building their hollow nests to impregnate my kingdom with their venomous spawn.
When she woke up, everything was black. The faint dripping sound from the corner of the room would have worried her had she not known better now. As long as there was no movement then there was naught to lose sleep over.
It was dead now, probably drooling into a pool of velvet smoky blood. Yet even with the creature slain, she could not waste time glorying in a victory fete. The worst was still yet to come.