The hurled pinecone knocked the wide-brimmed hat from the Old Crow's head. He spun, and the children tensed, hoping for one of his legendary rants about the Burning Eye and its search for him.
Instead, he fell to his knees, wringing his heavy black robe. "It sees me!" he cried, eyes locked on the cloudless sky. "God help me, it knows!"
When eventually they broke into his cottage, they found the robe on the floor, surrounded by the most peculiar burn marks. Everyone agreed that the wind had blown soot from the fireplace in that distressing fashion. Stranger things happen...
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