Ultimately we succeeded in opening a gap between ourselves and that Unseelie Host and for, a few moments I felt that we would escape without further loss but then a darkness moved in the … the trees … yes, the trees on the left of the path. Unsure what it was we slowed and watched in silent horror as that terrible creature stepped across the path.

Even as I sit here safe in my own home, isolated from the dark and the cold, the thought of that THING still chills my very bones. It was squat, not more than ten feet high, but terribly wide, blocking the whole path with its long ropy tendrils and great branch-like arms. Where the light played upon it we could see that its skin was composed of some unearthly material that was deepest black and yet glistened where the moonbeams struck. It moved on great pillar-like legs that seemed almost goat-like in that ghastly illumination.

As we hesitated, confronted by this child of a thousand blasphemous imaginings, the Faerie host came upon us, blocking the path behind as they gazed into the darkness with blazing eyes and traced patterns in the air with their terrible swords.

Trapped between the two dangers we decided to rush that huge demon of the trees and charged towards it, Mr J., Gabriel and I lagged back . . . an act of cowardice that nonetheless probably saved our lives for, with a demonic speed totally out of proportion to its ponderous bulk, the creature shot ropy bunches of tendrils at Mortimer, Jones and Langton as they tried to pass it. In moments such as that the urge to survive overcomes all higher instincts and so it was with me, for in the plight of my companions all I could see was an opportunity to escape. It was clear that, huge though it was, the terror was fully engaged in holding the three victims it had. Therefore Hammer, Mr J., Gabriel and I all rushed beneath its dark and fearful eaves, turning a deaf ear to the cries of our erstwhile companions.

A pang of remorse made me turn back to discover their fate . . . how I wish I had not done so, for as I looked I saw the sinuous appendages that enfolded Mortimer and Langton flex and then, in the briefest moment, tore them literally limb from limb, liberally decorating the nearby trees with their last mortal remains. Even Jones, strong and tough though he was, was unable to free himself from the grip of that antediluvian monstrosity and I watched, mesmerised, sure that the heroic soldier, who had been through so much, was also about to be destroyed. Once again I underestimated Jones' resourcefulness and courage for, with one great sweep of his left arm, he brought up the sword he was carrying and severed his other arm at the shoulder, leaving it in the grip of the creature.

Mr J., demonstrating an occult skill I was not aware that he possessed, uttered a curious incantation and opened a gateway from the Trod. We survivors stumbled through the portal back to reality and I remember little more until the morning sun streamed through the windows of the safehouse and I returned to the reality of the normal world.

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