Investigating a story for the Hawkins Post

Nancy Wheeler skim read her notes one final time as she approached the campsite.

The group had moved into the outskirts of the town a few days previously, and while they hadn't yet caused any trouble, Nancy knew the townsfolk were growing uneasy with their continued presence.

Rather than getting the police involved, Nancy thought it best if someone from the press found out why they where there and put everyone's minds at rest.

"Hey! Who goes there?"

A large man emerged from the nearest tent, a dog leased to a chain in his hand.

"M-my name is Nancy Wheeler," Nancy explained calmly, remembering how she had been told by her boss to avoid the visitors. "I-I just want to know why you're here. The people in the town are scared. The police will come soon."

"Why you? What's so special about you?" the man asked suspiciously, his grip tightening on the chain.

"I...I'm a reporter-"

"We don't want the press here!" the man replied angrily; but before he could advance on her, a woman appeared from the tent and restrained him by the shoulder.

"She looks harmless enough. We don't want the cops here, maybe if we let her habs a look around, she'll see that there's no reason to be scared of us.

"Girl! What did you say your name was?"

"Nancy Wheeler."

"Come here, Nancy Wheeler."

Nancy anxiously approached, already regretting her decision to pursue this story. Why hadn't she give for the eoman with 12 cats?

The brunette smiled weakly as the woman walked slowly around her, looking her up and down.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Eighteen."

"I think you'll be alright to come in," the woman smiled kindly at her.

"But there is something we'll need you to do for us first."