IV.

Three hours 'til dawn.

Somehow, I'm still alive.

The forest is suckling me in like some fearsome omen: thick woven branches hindering my every advance. Vying blindingly to part these fucken twigs, they just sway anew and scratch my skin bare through every stroke. Cold, so fucken cold. And whilst my feet desperately seek footing to go forth - soaked in frost-rimmed puddles of mud - every angle of the uneven ground twists my fucken ankle again, exerting frantic gasps of pain from an already aching throat.

Beyond the branches I can see the autumn sky, clearly. An endless mesh of stars illuminate the night, to which the moon sickle reigns absolute, outcast by the deep, velvet darkness yonder. For a second there, I can see a world that once was. Cruel temptation - still I must go forth.

I'll make it, I fucken swear.

When finally there rise the gates to the Estate, it's a very battered daemon that creeps out from the forest and out unto the road, raging and soaked in bloody sweat. There the earthen gravel does greet me at last, scraping my knees, and I lay motionless for an instant, trying to ignore the stifling, pulsing waves of agony that tear up my leg.

And there.

Two police cars stationed in front of the gates, engines running. Doors open, lights flashing - empty. From the distance I can make out the radio, screeching some endless sonic rubbish.

Swiftly I unsheathe the sgian dubh.

"Now, Milord," I tell Antonius as I delicately scoop him out of my backpack and appoint him on post atop my shoulder. "If ever there was a time for courage, this is it. And I would understand if you wanted to go back. We're clearly outnumbered here."

But he just looks at me with his little pink eyes, wiggles his tail a notch and simply nods in the direction of the Mansion.

"Aye, brother. Montjoie!"