Somewhere out there, a Gray screeched into the sky.
Everyone fell silent.
The wind shifted in odd patterns through the city, coming from all different directions, swirling and turbulent, which made tracking by scent difficult. But Grays were born hunters; they lived for little else, and it wouldn’t take much for them to latch onto a scent.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish
Comment on this Bubble
Your comment and a link to this bubble will also appear in your Facebook feed.