The tower appeared on the horizon just before sunset, massive insectile legs pumping, windmills whirling, towers flexing as though sniffing the air.
She rang the alarm bell at the first sign, but they still barely had time to clear the castle before it was upon them. The tower positioned itself above the central keep, and slowly lowered itself. The damage would be catastrophic, but they would rebuild. They always did.
The king and his court looked on in horrified fascination. It had been a few years since they’d had a visit. She turned away in disgust. She hated Mating Season.
Hugh J. O'Donnell 