Pop art miles on yellow

Pop art miles on yellowPop art miles on orangePop art miles davis no.8
looking at the birds. It had Lady Jane perched on its arm.
Hodgesaargh, like Mr. Brooks, didn’t take much interest in events beyond his immediate passion. He was aware that there were a lot of visitors in the castle and, as far as he was concerned, anyone looking at the hawks was a fellow enthusiast.“She’s still alive. Just.” She grabbed the hem of her dress, and tried to rip it.
“Damn the thing. Help me, Shawn.”
“Miss?”
“We need bandages!”
“But—““That’s my best bird,” he said proudly. “I’ve nearly got her trained. She’s very good. I’m training her. She’s very intelligent. She knows eleven words of command.”The elf nodded solemnly. Then it slipped the hood off the bird’s head, and nodded toward Hodgesaargh.“Kill,” it commanded.Lady Jane’s eyes glittered in the torchlight. Then she leapt, and hit the elf full in the throat with two sets of talons and a beak.“She does that with me, too,” said Hodgesaargh. “Sorry about that. She’s very intelligent.”Diamanda was lying on the kitchen floor, in a pool of blood.Magrat knelt beside her.