“Good
god man,” I hissed at Oak in shock, “Whatever can you mean?”
My
wife, meanwhile, continued with her ruckus in the kitchen.
“Just
listen to her,” Oak whispered back, “Does that sound like her
usual behaviour?”
More
noises clumped above us, causing us both to pause and stare.
“Well,
no,” I said as the moment passed. “But this isn't exactly what
you'd call a normal situation.”
“Exactly,”
Oak replied, “Even for the Forest there is
something....new....happening here.”
Above
us, the clumping got louder, steadier, as if something were making
its' way toward the stairs.
I
was about to ask him what he meant by that when the kitchen door was
thrown open. There stood my wife, framed by the doorway, a murderous
look in her eye and the bread knife gripped tight in her right fist.
