Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The chair rocks slowly on its back legs. The feet attached to the person in the chair rest on the railing of the Tavern's back porch. Four patrols have checked in, and still not the one he got the call from. Toby watches the night waiting patiently.
His nose twitches. The smell that assaults his senses is a mixture of rotting food, weremusk, and ghoul. The group eases through the bushes from the alley, one carrying a small bundle. He surges to his feet, half expecting bad news.
The werewolf hands over the blanket wrapped form. Toby moves a corner and looks down on the still form of his friend in fox form. The breathing is shallow, harsh, and Ron doesn't open his eyes. The tall youth looks up at the returning members of the patrol.
It is the winged girl who breaks the stillness. "We think the ghoul managed to catch him with her claws. We can't be sure though. I was all for giving him a bath, but no one knows if it would make things worse."
Toby nods. "Can one of ya'll see if Rowan is inside, or if anyone can reach the undertakers?"
The werewolf nearly barks. "Dude! he isn't dead!"
The girl lays a hand on his arm. "No... but they are ghouls. If anyone would know, they would."
She turns away, heading for the door. The demon wings on her back seem to dissolve as she reaches the door. When she turns back with a smile, she no longer looks demonic. The hair is full of curls, body slim and face pixieish. It dawns on Toby where he knows her from. It's Hermione, the girl in one of the afternoon class he shares with Ron.
"Be back in a few, I'll see who can help."