Siofra could hear it drifting an the mist. A low keening that came and went with the clouds scuttering across the moon. She looked across the fields but they were empty. Only tall grasses swaying with the wind in the moonlight. And still the sound came, lifting and swelling in volume before it collapsed and evporated. When she was uncertain where it was coming from it was at its loudest. About the time she knew the direction it would fade into nothing, leaving her confused about from where it came.

As she approached the creek the mist grew thicker but the sound faded and mixed with the dark waters. Once again she found herself lost about the source of the sound.

Then she saw it, the dark shape standing in the middle of dark swirling waters. The mist flowed around it as did the stream below. It was tall yet hunched. It was beating cloth on the rocks, trying to smash out the dark stains that smeared into the waters. It smashed and it scrubbed the cloth against the rocks and itself. Then it turned.

Beneath the cowl, Siofra realized, it had no face. And yet it looked toward her, looked right through her.

A line opened and kept growing. Darkness spilled out of the maw. And then she screamed. It was a scream that lasted as a wail. It rang through Siofras head, driving right through her skull. Then lines open at the top of the face. And then they opened like the maw below them. Where there should be eyes, there were additional mouths. And then they all began to scream.