Running. He was running past trees that were reaching out for him, branches grabbing for him, creepers trying to grip him, but he escaped them and kept running, oblivious to the threat of a forest woken up to its hunger. Blindly following the scent he kept dashing through the dark.

The forest cleared, there was the lake. Finally moonlight let him see where he was going, but the scent kept growing fainter and something else intruded. He slowed his pace, trying to regain the trace he had been following. He shivered, something cold was creeping towards him, his senses fought to keep it of, he stopped, the lake was so close, he could hear the water sagging against the shore in little waves. The cold invaded him, he yelped, trying to fend it off, then his senses changed. He could hear a pleading voice, distinguish words â€" no, please â€" feeling himself kneeling on the cold ground, see something dark sweeping over to him. No, please. He should fight it, he had learned something to fight it, but he was defensless against the cold and familiar fear that slowly took him over, until he blacked out.