I feel an overwhelming whish to be out in the woodlands again. I can almost hear the soothing babble of the river calling me home. But things have to take a turn for the worse eventually and it looks like my number has come up at last. The humans I now know to be Marguerite and Jason King enter the scene once more. Inconspicous, the cat slips in with them, the ghost of future murder. This time, there's a stealy gleam in its eye. It has regained its composure. The same can be said for the humans, who silently walk up to the table and gather the pictures. Hastily, I perch on the mantelpiece, hoping to go unnoticed one more time.
'As long as no one finds these, we'll be allright,' says Jason. The soothing tone in his voice reminds me of the wind rustling through the leaves. Soft and breazy it may be, yet you know it can turn into a storm within the blink of an eye. She takes a stack of pictures from him, carefully avoiding to even glance down on them. The cat starts wreathing itself around her legs, turning and twisting in a widening gyre. 'I'll go and burn them.' I glance up at the window. I may have to take desperate measures. If only I could hop a little closer to it without attracting the attention of any killing machine happening by.
'No. Wait. Keep them safe. They may come in useful later. After the grief has died down. I am sure the family won't want any blemish on the memory of the reverend Pentecost Lee. We may yet strike gold.' There's only a hint of ireon in his voice, but she jumps to attention nonetheless.
Previous parts:
Birds-eye, part 1
Birds-eye, part 2
Birds-eye, part 3
Birds-eye, part 4
Birds-eye, part 5
Birds-eye, part 6
Birds-eye, part 7
Birds-eye, part 8
Birds-eye, part 9
Birds-eye, part 10
Birds-eye, part 11
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