|
Day Three dawned bright and sunny. Well, sunny for Mordor, which meant mostly cloudy with just glimpses once every six hours or so.
The villagers arose and gathered at the village square. It was easy to see who had been killed during the night. These werwolves were nothing if not unoriginal. Tom Felton was hanging from the gallows, all of his fingers and toes removed. He wore no glasses, so apparently the werewolves were responsible for the big, bloody "0" emblazoned on the middle of his forehead.
"Zero?" asked Sai, as confused as ever.
"No werewolvesh?" SpaMi asked.
"Then who killed him?" Mardil said, pointing.
"Anakron!" shouted Fléin. "It had to be! I say we lynch him!"
Cooler heads prevailed, however, and he was reminded that the Grand Anakronist's person was necessary for the Offending Party to achieve its goal.
"But I needed him!" cried Alli. "I had plans for Tom! Now he's dead!" She got all teary eyed and began to murmur unintelligible words to the thin air.
|