16
Foxfire
I raise the binoculars and sweep the perimeter of the compound again. I’m up a tree, trying to spy on the compound from the distance. We’re on a hill, a little ways away. Not perfect, but the best vantage point I could find without getting close enough to get caught.
“No movement,” I mutter. So far, the place has proved pretty boring. There are a few cars in there, but they have been there all day, and other than a few guards who patrol every other hour, I haven’t seen any sign of a person.
No vans going in and out today, like my father made note of in his journal. I guess that’s something to be glad of. No vans means no deliveries. No kidnapped shifters.
I climb down and make notes in my dad’s journal, picking up where he left off. The last entry was so long ago. I try not
