Darkness. Running past trees that reach to grasp. Overhead a branch whistles, centimeters from contact. Evergreens and gnarled cottonwoods rise up, then fall away. A blood-red moon shines sickly light among the dark phantoms, the atmosphere thick as syrup. He pushes to get free. Malevolence, fused with darkness, lashes at his body and drives him on. Fear catapults him forward as adrenaline...