The moon is fat over the foggy valley. With hasty steps, cloaked and armed, they approach the river carrying some of their ilk. They dismember them, wash them with milk.
Ever vigilant he is, roaming the world drowned in folly, seeking those who are worthy. A blow to the ear, a faint whisper, consciousness populates the brain. Standing, shocked, the boy closed the door. The spark has been lit, but he shall yearn for more.