<div class="floatright">(http://images.fanpop.com/images/image_uploads/Details-Magazine-christina-ricci-688022_387_500.jpg)</div>Abigail glowers at Peter. "I am not a witch," she states unequivocally, "an' prithee what Elf-blooded whore whelped you that you'd banish a good, honest Lupravian from her place of employment, in the hands of a Stonelicker, a Krastov and whatever in the Nine Hells her woodsman is?" She holds her gaze, furious at Peter's proclamation, and quietly summons Lenore to her. The black raven alights on Abigail's left shoulder with an angry squawk. Finally, Abigail spits, and raises the Devil Horns to the village headsman. In Undercommon, she rasps "May spiders carry off your firstborn," before stroking Lenore under her beak and responding to a signal shared between her and her raven.<br/><br/>Abigail's eyes dash across the crowd, and alight on the unfortunate looking wretch babying a klitczka pup. Abigail suppresses a smirk, and she feels Lenore ruffle her feathers on her shoulder at the prospect of eeking out a sliver of catharsis following her effective banishment. "How now, good my lady?" Abigail calls with a glint in her eye. "Whyfore affix you me with such a glare? And prithee tell what business has you with low bred klitczka filth, good Lupravian?" She grins maliciously, and Lenore flaps her wings and caws. "Would that this child accosts you, I could find a use for her if need you respite." She waves her right hand in the air, and a faint ethereal tune plays on the breeze for a couple of bars; an unmistakable melody, an old Lupravian folk song commemorating Kaloyan the Elf-Slayer, who sacked the Elven city of Andraste in ages past, butchering every man, woman and child under the knives of his army.