Jenny: Just a Guttersnipe

There were only a few times in which her name sounded odd in someone's mouth, only a few self-pitying moments in which the Guttersnipe wondered why she was the Guttersnipe. She kept quite still, as if her stillness, like a hunted animal, would shake Domitia off her scent, her only comfort the Fox's harshly laughing tones: "You're as much a liar as I am, decked out in pretty royal splendour like some fancy bird, when we all know you're just a guttersnipe."

But she tired of being upset. She relaxed, melancholy, and dug her chin down into the folds of the blanket. Domitia had still not gone away. She was poor substitute for Gwenhywfar, but the girl seemed to care and she could not help not being the amber lady. Turning her head a little sullenly, the Guttersnipe asked, "What?"

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