We find ourselves upon a dark night with a clear moonless sky. Walking down the lamp lit street is a man trailing a mote of light, accompanied by a black cat. “Why are we out here?” The feline questions the man.

“Come on, you know why.” He throws a glance back to the cat.

“Yeah, but why in the dead of night?” They huff out angrily.

“Less people around, easier to get things done.”

“Great, so we’re out here in the cold instead of our warm and cosy house because of your people problems.” Eyes rolling the cat trots ahead.

“I do not have people problems!” He shots back.

“Whatever you say, let’s just hurry up and finish. I’ve got a couch with my name on it.” The pair turn into the street’s back alley and continue on for a minute before an ominous feeling causes them to stop. The man holds out a hand to the cat and says “Hold on, there’s something here.” Then grasps the mote and throws it above them, the light brightening and spreading further.

“Can we not get a normal job for once?” The cat complained as the two circled each other searching for the cause. Before long they see a large dog moving towards them through the shadows. As it steps into the light it is revealed to be a rottweiler with a lowered head.

Stolen novel; please report.

The pair turn to look at each other confused, the thought ‘Is this it?’ is shared between them. They watch as the dog raises its head and are horrified. Its jaw hangs limp on its face, the teeth loose and jutting in different directions.

This sight is only the beginning as more animals step into view. A three legged fox limps forward followed by a tabby cat with no eyes, an owl missing a wing hops behind them. Skittering out from the shadows is a lizard, appearing unharmed until it opens its mouth and its complete lack of teeth is revealed. A bat drags itself onward, its wings without their membrane. A bird of some kind is next, the feathers all plucked off its form.

More and more come forward surrounding them, birds, dogs, snakes, cats, lizards, bugs of all kinds, each of them different but all having the same thing in common. All of them are missing a piece of themselves. Tails, ears, limbs, beaks, some have bones absent and from other form’s skin or scale can’t be seen. In most the loss is overly visceral, the remainder however seem almost normal, if not sickly.

As the endless wounded grow around them they notice that there is no aggression in this act. Within the eyes that remain, gazing, lies sadness edged in pity. These are not the eyes of an enemy but of a victim, one who has tried and failed to save others from there fate. This was not a threat or a prelude to an attack, it is with great terror that they realise that this is in fact, a warning.

With a tremble the presence turns heavy. A lumbering approach is the final nail in the coffin. They know the thing that did this to the mob that surrounds them is coming.

The Taken’s warning has come, as it always will, too late. The Collector has come.