"Well..." He stammered, as he looked at the tent in my lap for the first time. "I don't touch it much because my mom always tells me it's bad." "I k...ow what you mean," I retorted. "My mom says the same thing all the time." I scoffed, quickly shifting my eyes from his lap back to the pictures.Following my lead, John began looking at the photos once again. Hesitantly he asked, "How good does it feel when you do rub it?" As I thought about how to respond to this question, I became intrigued. As days dragged into weeks and the number of bodies mounted, he fell into despair. Quinlan had never answered and now, no matter what he did he was doomed. Did he give his daughter to savagery and death, or watch the people he had called friend for sixteen years die senselessly? Unable to arrive at an answer, he instead fell to drink.Garnett has always been seen as the voice of authority and reason within the village and in this time of crisis, with him uncharacteristically silent, they instead. More

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