Cold. Its so cold. But I need to keep running, so they don't burn me at the stake.
This is what is going through my head as I'm running through the woods during the middle of the winter, in the dead of night. The reason why I'm running for my life is clear: I've been accused of witch-craft and accused of associating with the devil. The year is 1520 and nothing makes sense right now.
All of a sudden I hear hounds coming after me. Must get away, I got to hide before they find out.
This is what I'm thinking as I come to a fairly large river. If only they knew that I'm a Catholic.
I start to run down the bank of the river, which I'm only able to see because of the moonlight, when I hear one of the dogs running right behind me. I also hear it barking like crazy.
Oh, God, help me, just because I got the Sight doesn't mean I need this impeding doom!
I trip over my dress and fall over into the sand. The Hound jumps on me, pain tears through my body and I black out.
The witch-hunt has ended and my unfair trial has begun.