11 Isolde stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight. He recoiled. The sun’s rays accentuated every craggy line and crevice that marred her face. It shone on her broken, rotted teeth and gave them a deep gray -green hue. Wisps of white and gray hair stood on end as a gentle breeze rolled over the grassy landscape and into the Downs. A hair broke off and disappeared into the shadows of the trees. Her watery, almost colorless, eyes looked him over with a keen intelligence. “Where’s my mother?” he asked, through gritted teeth. Isolde waved her gnarled hand. The black creature appeared with his mother still slung over its shoulder. Had it been there the whole time? It was almost too difficult to see in the shadows. He stared at it. Its midnight black skin and the darkness from the tre

