I was bent over, hacking my lungs up. We all were, even Raven and
Oak. Thick noxious smoke filled our living room, bitter on the
tongue and acid to the eye, tears streaming down our faces.
Not surprisingly, it was Raven who recovered first. With a ragged
cloth held over his nose and mouth, he strode purposefully to the
window, flinging it open. Waving his arms frantically, he walked to
the spot Strauss had occupied but a moment before, empty now, no
trace of the three midgets or their solitary alter-ego remained.
As the smoke began to thin and clear, I could see him looking at
Fiona, eye brows raised.
“They wont have gone far,” she said.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I saw the cats had also made their
exit.
“No?” Raven asked her in reply, “How can you be sure? Might
they not have just returned to the Weave?”
“I doubt it,” she told him, “That's not their purpose here.
But we should try to find them, before it's too late.”
