My feet crunched over dry hickory leaves. Wood rangers had stapled up Smokey Bear (βOnly You Can Prevent Forest Fires!β) signs along the state roads. One cigarette butt flicked out a passing car window and thereβd be real hell to pay.
Darla flexed her three-inch claws and swiped a gnarled index finger across her phone screen, scanning another batch of personal ads from Magic Matches, but none of the men looked like a suitable victim.
The city outside, so busy, so full of life, seemed in stark contrast to the deathly silence inside their home. It seemed...like a muffled silence, as if the house itself was holding its breath, waiting...
I love him. These three words were echoing around inside her head, and the noise they were making was not diminishing. They were just three words, which separately were so non-threatening, so innocuous, but when combined in that order they implied so much.