Oh, the City hadn't brought the house to bother anyone other than a certain crone trapped in a rather cute little body. It had to keep her busy, or she might get it into her head to start causing trouble - again. She liked causing trouble. So, there it was, the chicken leg house. And it was moving on its long chicken legs, heading for somewhere.
Baba had decided she had to deal with this damn house. A house that had gotten her caught the last time. Thankfully no one knew who she was here, not that she knew of anyway. There was no one here who could capture her, not that she knew of anyway. There was no one who would cause her as much trouble as those damn Fables back in Fabletown, not that she knew of anyway.
She stood in a very fine summer dress, the wind whipping itself playfully around her, mussing her hair, fluttering the hem of her skirt. It was almost picture perfect for some silly romantic comedy, only the look on her face might have ruined it. Oh, it wasn't some horrible ghastly bit of anger that marred the picture, but the look of extreme concentrated displeasure.
The chicken leg house walked purposefully along the Park grounds, which wa saying a good bit about a house on those sorts of legs, and somehow managed to step on only a few picnics, maybe one picnicker who thought that saving the cake was more important than saving his life. He'd only lose the leg, not his life, so the house hadn't even taken a life. Well, maybe one or two small dogs. No children. It needed to get to her. She actually wanted it close by; the house was pleased with this.