You had read the papers. You had heard the radio. You knew you shouldn't be outside by now... Yet there you were, pacing through the rainy night, speeding up every time you saw a shadow or heard a cat's meow. The victims never had much do say; stricken with shock after the long crawl to the hospital or police. Some muttered incomprehensibly about a tiny, red devil. They all had the same wounds; lower legs torn so they couldn't run... You hear footsteps. You speed up. The footsteps seems to come from everywhere, yet nowhere in particular. Quick steps. Short legs, probably. Constant splashes following you, getting closer slowly. You start to jog. You need to get home. But it's too late. A shape steps out of an alley in front of you. What looks like two big horns sticking up from it's head, though seeming much too thick; and it's hair flowing long and red like rivers of blood. The glowing green eyes stare at you, and a sharp-toothed grin appears below them... "That's-... Some nice, tender ankles you have there-..."