Plotting v Pantsing

May 30, 5:21 pm, London, England

What the actual hell had just happened? Did I see that right? Did something go wrong with my eyes?

For a moment, I sat there, slack-jawed as Irade ran into the night, her not-boyfriend in her arms and mentor wolf at her side.

I rewound and replayed what I had just seen happen, my brain not making sense of what my eyes were seeing. Well, that wasn't strictly true; my brain did understand what it was seeing. It just didn't want to believe it.

After the fifth replay, the women were getting distracting. I made them all disappear, before sitting back and rewatching the replay a couple hundred more times.

But no matter how many times I watched it, the contents never changed. It still happened.

No. That was impossible. Completely impossible for someone with a pseudo-core like Irade.

Unless...