Drew Off- Runs out of sight

But it was too late. The window was empty, now simply framing the rain that lashed in. Mack Ferran slowly lowered the poker and shoved it through a loop of leather on his belt. His other hand settled onto the hunting horn on his hip, palm closing over the cool ivory as he crossed over to the window. He peered through the rain that flooded the muddy yard outside. Beyond, in the black night sky, the moon stared down, full and white.

The boy was gone.

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