She waits for her moment. She peers into the thick brush to see if it is glimmering through. A flicker of black among the trees, like a candle in the attic. Only one pair of eyes are watching her closely. They boar into her from the edge of every room. They corner her like ghosts coming closer and closer. She waits for her moment. Gnashing teeth in the night, claws slicing the soil, pounding breasts. Nighttime has fallen, and she grows hungrier.