by Mark Tufo
CHAPTER 13 - Mike Journal Entry Eight
I was down from the small enclosure almost at the same time the moon crested below the tree line.
“Time to pack,” I said to Azile as I helped her down the ladder.
“Just because nothing happened here, does not mean something did not happen,” Azile said, seemingly angry that she had been proven wrong from the events.
She was not really seeing the bigger picture that, if she had been right, many people would have died last night. Could be part of the reason she was named the Red Witch, but I sure wasn’t going to say anything.
Bailey met us as she came down from one of the other towers. She looked exhausted. “Do not leave until I talk with the council. They will convene within the next few hours.”
I didn’t personally see the necessity in waiting, the sooner we were out of here the sooner I could go back to wherever I was going back to. The world now had Lycan, Werewolves, and whatever Watchers were, I should have stayed in Maine. Right now, that sounded like the best idea. The Micmac sounded like right good neighbors at this point.
The council did convene before noon, but whatever they were talking about was now running into the dinner hours.
“They wish to talk to you,” Bailey said, coming to get us.
I was lying on my bed pretending to rest. Azile kept staring out the window, perhaps looking for a sign. Maybe the Watchers, a one-eyed Raven, maybe even a black cat, I didn’t know.
“Then we can go?” I asked.
A haggard looking Bailey looked back at me.