A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME
Chapter 2
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Now, as Dean limped along on an ankle that was twisted, or sprained, or probably broken after stumbling down a narrow incline in knee-deep, stinking mud with which he was now liberally coated and which was, for the record, chafing evilly, he was rueing his hasty decision.
He tried not to dwell on the cold and slimy something that he could feel under his T-shirt, clinging to his back after that stupid swim across the lake – if it was a leech or an eel, then he wouldn't need the Mark of Cain to show the world how pissed off he was.
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tbc