Lost Creek Hollow carrie (1976)

The woman insisted that he knew her name. She said that she had told him many times. The dark woman urged him to look inside himself and find it. Crowfeather’s lashes fluttered over his gaze.

Did she wish for him to give her a name?

Crowfeather felt that he didn’t like these interactions very much. Her bright red gaze was a spotlight that burned his flesh and made him bead with sweat. The woman was too unpredictable in her nature. She was like a rush of wind that carried a looming storm.

Black wing on the wind.

Sharp and light.

The three-legged figure shifted his weight.