The air feels heavy tonight, like the Town is holding its breath before a fever breaks. I’m sitting here with a large glass of milk, watching the shadows stretch across the floor. To the Townsfolk: stop scurrying around as if your panic will change the rhythm of things. To the Kin: the old ways aren't lost, they're just waiting for someone to remember how to breathe them in.
Is it just me, or does anyone else feel like the set hasn't quite been changed enough for what's coming next?