Timothy lay flat against his mare as they tore through the shadowy wood, heart pounding in his ears. Turning to peek over his shoulder, he could just make out the mist-blurred shape of the horse-mounted mob just coming over the crest. Shuddering against the cold and fear, he faced forward again. He wanted to explain to these people, wanted to make them understand what they were going after. But he knew if he stopped for even a moment, the mob would tear him to bits, then continue on to the ultimate predator.

He kept riding.

Cloak tugging on his neck and shoulders as it billowed behind him, Timothy tried to urge his horse to move faster. As she pulled ahead, he suddenly remembered the words to a poem or a song, he couldn’t remember which. As they played over and over in his head, he felt that the words had been written just for this moment:

Through the mist, through the wood, through the darkness and the shadows, it’s a nightmare but it’s one exciting ride…