We sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant voices of our wives talking about children and the tick of an old grandfather clock somewhere in the house when I heard the scream again. It was coming from outside - somewhere close to the house, but it was hard to tell. I sat up in my chair, but Arthur didn’t move.
“Birds,” he said flatly.
“Sorry?” I asked.
“We’ve got birds out here that sound like that sometimes,” he said. “Sound like a lady shriekin’, or sometimes a child cryin’, but it’s just the birds callin’ to each other.”
