36.A deaf rumbling echoed over the hills to the west. The weather did not seem to be rainy, but the clouds’ colour on the horizon was a very deep leaden that was in beautiful contrast with the green of the grass, and the lightest parts above the town left glimpses of the blue sky. A light wind moved the branches of the forest just off the main road to the north. There was hardly anyone on the street. A middle-aged woman walked steadily, an older man down the street looked up trying to predict what the weather was going to be like, while good old Timothy Atton stood on the doorstep of his carpentry shop taking a break from his hard-working day. A blackbird was standing on the vicarage’s white fence.
Reverend Johnathan Abblepot was standing at the window, looking grimly toward the woods.
H
