• There he is, a dark figure in the heavy midnight fog.
    The late autumn wind sales through the woods, shaking the trees and sending the beast in a cold shiver. With the wind fades the fog, and I can see him more clearly. And he can see me.
    Our eyes lock, mine frozen with peril, unable to steer away from his coal black glare burning into me. He paws at the ground with his feet, and I feel death coming close. He snarls threateningly, and I glimpse the white of his teeth, even in the darkness of the night. I whimper to myself, but I can tell by the sudden spark in his eyes he hears it too. He senses my fear, and it excites him. What beast is this?
    He hurls a blob of mucus into the dirt, from his mouth, and snarls yet again. He breaks into a sudden sprint, and I feel my life splinter as his claws lunge for my neck. I am tossed onto the ground, unable to breathe. The rustle of trees shaking in the wind are drowned out by my whimpers and the beast's snarls, as he struggles to retrieve the knife from his coat pocket and slice the throat of the dog.