While riding the trails over hill and dale last weekend, I encountered this enchanting young lady (what do you call a mermaid that dwells on land?), lounging on a fallen log over the small stream we ride though, and where we water the horses.
Mrs. B. was riding with me. She always seems to be with me when I encounter such succubi, or nymphs, or odalisques, or sirens, or whatever they are called. These remarkable beings only speak with a voice that sounds like a breeze through the leaves and and the rippling of the streams. Sometimes they make themselves visible. Most times, not.