Returning to the Bunker

Havermouth, The Present

Night was falling, but Havermouth was not resting.

Talen and Heath and the werewolf soldiers had moved cement roadblocks to block off some roads, and parked vehicles across others in order to prevent the Van Helsings from entering freely overnight. The witches had drawn runes on walls and the paving to add to the security, but there was, of course, no real way to secure an entire town. They just had to hope that they’d wounded the Van Helsings enough that they would need the night, at least, in order to recover.

Talen hoped it would take them longer, Aislen knew.

The main streets of the town were hectic with people and wolves, children running wildly between the fires that the town had created in garbage cans set in the center of the road, lighting the night in flickering gold and orange as the moon glowed overhead, the stars a shimmering curtain in a dark sky unmarred by cloud.

It had the feel of a street festival, and even smelled and sounded like one, Aislen