Chapter Sixty-Eight
The 'Werewolves' of Pine Meadows A low mist barreled across the late summer fields like tumbleweed, too early, in my mind, for this time of year. The howls and yips had awakened me. Reluctantly, I glanced at my watch and cringed. It was 2 a.m.! Thud! My cat, Sid, had leaped from the bed and, with his nose pressed against the outer screen door, listened intensely. Above the mist was a freckled star-studded night sky scrubbed clean of clouds while the bright full moon journeyed toward the western horizon.
Yipping, howling or any oth...
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