An ear-piercing scream tore the night in two as a small girl, aged four, clung to her father's arm. "Don't give me away, don't! You can't! I'm not crazy, no! Don't give me away!" she shrieked, shaking with heaving sobs. The man holding her snorted in disgust at his daughter's pleas. The girl shook her head violently as she was thrust into the hands of another man, the town's jailer. "NO!" she screamed. The man cackled and slung her over his shoulder roughly. The attack dog on the leash in his hand growled at the child, causing her to shrink slightly. "Please! Please, don't let him take me, Daddy! I'M NOT A BAD DOG!" she wailed. The man's upper lip curled as he turned around, fists tightening in annoyance at the girls screams.
"The white dog is a good dog, a good dog, good. The black dog is a bad dog, a bad dog, bad. He'll eat your flesh down to the bone, down to the bone. He'll gobble you up 'till you're gone, 'till you're gone," the jailer chanted, voice like nails on a chalkboard. The girl struggled weakly against his grasp, but to no avail.
Her father walked with apparent calm, with an air of triumph, as he left his child with the other man. "Oh, but you are a bad dog, Sarah, you're bad enough to no longer be called a Barrymore. You're worse than a bad dog, Sarah."
That night was the first time the monster known as the Demon Hound appeared.