Mage of Wolves
Even as high as I could see above me, it was moving, reddish air.
Across from me, standing about twenty feet away, was Francis Flamingo, wearing a black gown, like the one she’d been wearing in Principal Short’s office this morning, only she was also wearing a hood. I thought it was a shade of fuschia, but it was hard to say with the red between her and I. Her lips were blackis purple, a shade of lipstick most people couldn’t pull off, but it looked good on her, and her skin was as pale and clammy looking as her daughter’s.
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