“Why won’t you just do as you’re told!?” snarls the lord of the manor. He curls his claws under the edge of the table, almost four hundred pounds of solid oak, but he does not manage to upend it before a hand halts its progress.

“Now sir," says his guest, sweetly baring her teeth, “I think you know that’s no way to behave, and I also think you owe your servants an apology for spoiling the feast they took such pains to prepare.”