As she laid in the hay constructed bed that night, she pictured the young man she had conversed with earlier that day. His facial features were as clear as ever, shimmering under the fluorescent light of the setting sun. But she also pondered what he had said. That even in the little town that she had once thought was impenetrable from the dangers of the outside world, she was still not safe.

She remembered all the stories she had heard as a child. The stories of the neighboring towns and how they met their fates. In the dead of the night, carrying pitchforks and torches, they would come. Setting houses on fire, murdering everyone: men, women, even children, until they were content. Until the Devils were eliminated.

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They used many excuses for their crimes. Some claimed that the devils made potions of their children–extracting their blood in order to make a delicious stew. Others blamed the devils simply for desiring to live. Yet no matter the reason, they came to eliminate those who they called devils. They came to eliminate those like Rose.