So, he got himself a soda. He shut the door and started to go downstairs. He checked the food supplies that were left and made a note to steal more hay when he went to see the others. He was not sure if he wanted to. He burdened them with quite a burden after all. So in case something happened he must finish the story. Get his point on paper, make a testimony of his story. This, and he really was bored. He checked the living room. "Be good," he did not want to clean up broken glass again. His company said nothing but just kept sitting on the couch. "Close enough," decided and swiftly took the stairs. Pen, Paper and Story being where he left, he continued.
»No, I do feel this event is unfortunate. Maybe it was not long enough ago, maybe I did not think about it long enough. But, does it matter? No. It does not. Whatever I saw, it saw me. It seemed to have eyes as disproportioned as its head, and a body covered in fur of a strange color. It did not even flinch. In fact, it did not move at all. It just stared at me. Slowly I shed the covers down with one hand, the other hidden under the board at the edge of my bed. If anything happened I would be able to defend myself, but attack was unthinkable from this position.«