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“I'm going in.
Be careful. I am using a faint draft.
No worries, I am creating a nice habitat for the black witch moth. It isn't small, it has a seven-inch wingspan, but the undead would not believe a hunter would use such a creature to spy on them. I, however, will have to give my moth at least eight inches to be realistic.
Dragomir nearly choked. Leave it to Sandu. The black witch moth was legendary as a harbinger of death. And eight inches? It was starting. He shouldn't have shared humor with any of them.
Found another entrance here on the street. Ferro this time. I will go in as a black witch moth. Perhaps I should make my wingspan that little bit bigger as in keeping with my size. Say, nine inches?
Dragomir would have laughed if his present form allowed it. They might not find humor in the things they said, but they were funny. Now that he had regained his emotions, he shared them automatically with the others. It had been so long since any of them had felt anything, they almost didn't remember what humor was.
If we went by that, I would go for a ten-ing wingspan, Andor said, his voice droll. Sandu, I hope that you do not feel embarrassed
Given that much larger than eight to nine inches is going to draw attention and be smashed by some stubby vampire, I have no reason to feel this emotion - this embarrassment you speak of.
That rules out my twelve-inch wingspan, Benedik grumbled.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Legacy