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Torrance Blood followed Andrea's distinctive boot prints into the
community of run down buildings just after the rooster's first cockle
doodle doo. There were three neat little cottages that looked identical
and brand new, and a fourth further on that looked lived in. The
rest were dilapidated, and in disrepair. His animal had given out about a hundred yards before, having hauled Torrance through much of the night. Torrance had lost the trail only once, where the path to the town broke off the main track. But now, as he neared his goal, he smelled the blood money already in his pocket. He examined the buildings for a few minutes. The boot prints went in and out of the cabin farthest away, but only went in the cottage next door. There was a horse tied in the garden of the cottage next to that, but it did not concern him. He approached the cottage with the boot prints. Andrea heard the rooster and rolled out of bed. She wore her lucky dress as a nightgown. Her adventuring outfit was drying nearby. The dress was a white pullover with a low neckline and short skirt. She never told anyone why it was lucky, but it had something to do with her otherwise stoic French teacher when she was seventeen. Although she had now outgrown the garment, especially up top, she wore it in private to feel confident, and that's how she felt. Her feet, however, were blistered and swollen from the previous day's hike. As she sat on the bed, she applied some salve and wondered how to refashion her boots to fit her feet. Just then, the wall behind her crumbled. She jumped to run, but a hand reached through the rubble, grasped her by the neck, and pulled her to sunlight. She struggled and screamed, but was being held off the ground by her neck and was choking to death. It was none other than Torrance Blood. Torrance Blood walked through the garden a few steps holding the back of his victim's neck in his left hand. With his right, he aimed to place a blow straight through the back of her skull. Suddenly, he felt his right arm immoblized. He turned to see a tree grinning at him and holding his right arm back with one of its longer branches. He dropped the screaming Andrea, and, with both of his massive arms, broke off eight feet of the branch that held his arm. The tree cried in pain. By this time, Jim had heroically brought the horse from the other cottage to where Andrea lay. But Torrance brought the stick around rapidly, and struck the animal on the back of it head, sending it down in whinnys and neighs.
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