'My focus was drawn to the small red man at the foot of my leg. A curious look of satisfaction on his sunburnt face, and a small knife clenched in a deformed hand.
In the grand scheme of things she was no prize pony. She was a walk on part in a made for TV movie, and because of the way she laughed with that cold green stare, a panicked rush of fear paraded through my mind. Like the seasons she could change.
I looked twice and the characteristics were there. Teeth and fur and the bloody remnants of a meal at her mouth. Then was gone. Obviously a hallucination. A vision of grandeur. A horrific trick the red man had played on my fragile self. He likes to watch me squirm and stutter and become unsure of myself.'