Phantom Hollow You can't just snap your fingers and expect me to be there.

The boy lay so dangerously close to the edge of the river that, where it to override its limits, he would easily be swept away.

It was unfortunate for him that there had been no substantial rainfall in the past week, or he might have been successful in summoning the spirit of the river to come and eat him; instead, where he wished the white foaming of the river would sweep up and over the bank to lick him from the stone escarpment, there came something much more dangerous - a bloodied, pale beast of a woman.

She danced an offer to him. He was more surprised by the fact he could hear it clearly, with the river rushing loudly by, and his ear a coagulated mess, and the pounding in his neck that hadn't stopped since Shikoba's teeth had marked him.

A home, she'd said?

No.

The boy barely moved; his dark eyes turned to where the woman stood, or tried to look at her, but saw only the width of her feet and the black claws there, hazy and unclear. He was being petulant. It was all he had left, and he'd stick to it even if it hurt him in the end.