32 – CLAWED
STEPHAN
“That’s odd,” Claude commented.
He was saying out loud what I was thinking.
I looked at him, “I have been thinking the same thing.”
“What’s odd?” Flint asked.
He and Claude banded together when I told the group to split up and they went searching left.
I had remained in front of the main tent, a part of me thinking that there was some secret bunker or something here and that any time soon, witches would pop out of it and attack.
Nothing of sort happened and time passed and finally Claude and Flint were back.
Claude looked at Flint, “Are you an airhead?”
Flint frowned, “That does not call for insults man, just tell me what the f**k is going on.”
“Can’t you smell?” Claude yelled. “What do you smell?”
“Nothing!” Flint protested.
“Exactly,” I chipped in, “Nothi
