Jere was staring at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he had slept, but it had been a while. He wanted to get up and search for the healer, but his body wasn’t listening to his commands. He wasn’t sure whether he was still sleepy or exhausted or both. The scraping noise had been keeping him up all night. As he tried to move he was suddenly struck with dread. He did not know why; all he knew was that he had to keep looking at the ceiling. He knew that if he looked down he would see her. She was in the room with him. He heard heavy wheezing and the sound of blood dripping on the floor.

She hovered into his periphery. Jere couldn’t see her face save for an oval blur that bent at an odd angle. She shuffled closer to Jere. He still couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. He kept staring upward as her features became apparent. Long black hair. Distended jaw. Bloodshot eyes. Jere finally recognized Mena. He tried to breathe as she climbed on top of his body. His arms and legs were completely numb. We wanted to scream but his body wouldn’t let him. He could feel the blood from the gaping hole in her chest drizzle onto his torso as she pressed her body into his. She moved her head over his view, blocking the ceiling with her crimson eyes. The scraping noise was getting louder. More ferocious.

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Jere felt pain in his arm. The only thing he could move was his eyes. He glanced to his right and saw the shaman Malefica. He recognized her lattice of wrinkles and her frizzy gray hair. She was kneeling beside his bed, staring into his face, her eyes black as tar. She was furiously scraping her fingernails up and down his arm. It was covered in deep scratches.

Malefica’s crooked grin split her entire face as she ripped more skin from Jere’s arm.