She often thought about laying traps to snare the stinking vermin, but they could smell every brave thought in that determined imagination of hers and every hidden crevice of her captive mind.
Scrounging, hungry, ***** rats, scratching their way through her walls of peace and tranquillity for another slice of her magic.
One day, one day those rats will surely die from the potency of her will for them to leave, or, she will simply remove their tails one by one when sheβs sharpened herself up enough.
A rat with no tail is a comforting thought in the midst of it all.