“You heard me,” Oak
barked once more, “Move away.” He pointed to the corner of the
room with that bloody stick of his. “Over there,” he said, “All
three of you.”
My wife stood up
slowly, turning to face him, her hands raised in surrender. “Now
Mister Oak,” she said, “You have to let us make sure the children
are okay.” I couldn't believe how calm she seemed, her voice
suggesting she was just changing her order with the milkman, not
addressing some kind of supernatural lunatic.
Behind him the wall
shimmered, tiny ripples beginning to emanate from its' centre. “On
the contrary,” he said, quite smugly I thought, “I don't have to
do anything. Now step back.” He gestured with that stick once
more. “All of you, leave them alone.”
“Stop being such a
bloody fool,” Raven commanded, “I've known saplings that would
handle this situation better.”
“Quiet!” Oak
snapped. “Stand back, keep your hands where I can see them, and
shut up.”
The ripples in the wall
behind him were getting a little more agitated by this point, as
something like a dome seemed to be pushing its' way through.
