Part 2.
It was a boy, about 7 years old. He'd been gashed in the neck by some monster. The sight of the deep fang-like incisions was terrific. The water around him was muddied by the blood oozing from the lesions. In an instant, my mind was amuck with possibilities.

My imaginations were running wild. How long had he been lying there? What or who attacked him? Was I in danger too? Should I flee or should I scream for help? Whatever the choice was, I couldn't move one inch. Some phenomenal power seemed to have me glued to the spot.
A moment passed before I spotted it on the other side of the lake.
It was gradually making its way into the forest from the lake, with what one might call slow, painstaking steps. Its outline was that of a little oldish misshapen stooped woman. She was shrouded in a black sweeping cloak, as if to shield her entirely from the light of day. Granted her overall appearance was barely maleficent, her presence at the lake's edge at that moment was quite odd.

What was a decrepit old woman doing at the lake all by herself? Did she, perhaps, know who or what had hurt the child?
Just then, as if on cue, something hit me hard from behind; and I blacked out.