The evil elf shoved his stolen chickens into the cottage through the broken window and climbed in after them. They seemed to be in a sort of kitchen. He scrambled from a bench to the table, took a few bites from a loaf of bread and threw the rest to the floor for the chickens. A cat hissed and jumped up to bat at him, but the elf dueled with the animal using his dagger like a rapier until she fled to hide.
He found the baby asleep in a cradle by the hearth. It was a thin little thing, hideous. But they're never too ugly to steal. He made cooing sounds and picked her up, meaning to run out the door, but a thick leather cord tied round her ankle kept her leashed to an iron ring in the floor: a most annoying and fortuitous precaution. What did these people fear? Night elves? He smirked. His reputation preceded him. How flattering. He put the leash on a chicken and took the baby.
But once again he stopped short. No, he thought. You can't beat dogs. Much cooler than children: screaming, puking, shitting little devil's spawn that eat you out of house and home. He was better off with a dog. And to cap it off, that miserable battle-ax Mrs. Sanders and her Colonel husband will know their luck's run out when they find the monstrosity he left leashed in the kitchen in place of their puppy.
Opening: Susan Brown.....Continuation: anon.