Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. A few seasons went by where he initiated her into the disgusting rituals of killing and eating human beings, a dark time where she pined for a rescuer who never arrived. The door closed softly upon her. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. A door slammed.
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