Burnt-out Ends of Smokey Days (Angie & Logan) 22 April 2016
Evening crept in faster than Angie wanted. The late April evening lent itself to more daylight, but night had to fall at some point, and as the shadows began to get longer, Angie started to get jumpy. Funny how the more she tried to deny that something as impossible as a werewolf, the more ominous it felt to her. Like there was some daemon lurking over her shoulder. Just to be sure, Angie checked over her shoulder in case there was some kind of wolf shadow following her down the road. But no, the street lamps and the dying sun only projected her usual shadow onto the brown stone buildings past which she walked on her way home.
Suddenly, the smell of fresh growth and soft leaves filled her nose, and Angie stopped to sniff the air, a smile coming to her face. This wasn’t so bad. She rolled her shoulders, relaxing noticeably. She breathed in again, and continued to walk home. Flowers. The salt air from the bay. Garbage. Actually...it was pretty interesting garbage.
No. Absolutely not. Angie was only thinking these things because a couple of strange Sorcerers had planted the idea in her head that she was supposed to be acting like a wolf. It was completely ridiculous that she’d think these things. She kept walking, trying to focus on other things. Anything else would--chicken.
There was chicken in that garbage bag under the window. At least half a chicken. And it smelled good. Roasted, and covered in salt and spices. Angie narrowed her eyes at the bag, trying to make up her mind. Was she really considering dumpster diving for a half chicken someone else threw away when she had food back at home? Was she a poor starving artist who lived off of the generosity of strangers’ tips? Absolutely. She opened the gate and let herself into the strangers’ yard.
