Lake Rodney fine young cannibals

juria did not make it far before the most unnatural sound screeched at her through the trees. it wasn't even really a screech: it was more like a dying whoopie-cushion, if that whoopie-cushion was made out of an inflated cat. a mix of a yowl and a yodel, she'd later decide. whatever it was, the sound of it startled the woman so hardcore that she slipped and missed a step, plunging off-course enough that she fell face-first in to the lake. or a part of the lake. a puddle maybe? either way she was soaking wet and filled with a dreadful panic, and only after scrambling back to her feet - and on to dry land - did she realize how stupid she looked.

the girl was seemingly fearless then, turning her half-soggy face towards the origin of the call. she bared her teeth as a sign of her irritation and the dull light of the evening abyss caught upon them; and then she bellowed: dude, not cool! go haunt someone else's ass! maybe that land of the sane business the last guy was selling wasn't far off the mark...