William came awake, the second morning after the trauma, to a silent house.

Myriam watched the bobbing light break up among the branches, then disappear, as Gord and Cal crept along the rails that led to the car.

As they spoke the Colonel would occasionally raise his hand, then a building would suddenly be ablaze.

Silence, deep and unyielding, descended. No bullfrogs sounded and no night birds called - even the chirp and buzz of the insects had fallen into a hushed lull.

William had clawed his way through the brush and darkness until he could move no more, then he'd discovered that weeping silently was an exhausting business.

Tonight, the Chrononauts get a lesson in SPELLING. Because it's D&D. And there are spells.

While Gord would have claimed it was "an echo of the past carried by the tail of our nation's avatar," or some crap, Hari simply hoped he wasn't about to require a number of rabies shots.

Join the Chrononauts as they encounter an unexpected party.

If he'd awoken in the middle of the night and stumbled across the scene it might have seemed peaceful, but there was something unnerving at the lack of lit windows beyond the railroad tracks. The glass panes now seemed to stare him down, sockets without eyes.

The rum was doing an excellent job of warming her against the chill of the lake breeze. Somewhere in the darkness, down where the lapping water worked at an embankment overrun with grasses, a bullfrog began to croon a long and low note.