My Main character is a naughty creature. So is Deepon. But there are things out there Naughtier. Badder. More powerful. More resourceful. Here, they are being reminded of that.
Something tickled along my ivories. In a spectacularly bad way.
Then I realized what it was. It was the old woman’s singing.
I didn’t know quite what she was, but with the inflections of her humming, she was weaving. Weaving music magic.
Something about the way the old woman spinned her notes gave rise to the notion in my mind of someone walking over my grave.
I knew Deepon felt it too. It was all over her face.
Then her singing, humming, weaving, suddenly stopped. Her head snapped right round, and she stared at us. And we both knew. She was not there by accident. She was there for us. Like previous others who’d made their presence known, she was there to send us a message. We both knew what it was, and it’d been driven home harder than a nail under a hammer.
The old woman stared at us for a long while.
Deepon and I headed home.