The dream was garbled and full of snarling dogs. Hazlyn found herself running down a dark, wooded hill. She could hear them talking to each other; their howls and barks forming an eloquent language of dread. The half-moon gave her just enough light to miss the larger trees. The invisible underbrush tore at her skirt, tangling her feet. She found herself sliding down the hill on her backside more than on her feet. Finally, she burst out into the clearing at the bottom of the hill. Stumbling on the slick, wet grass and falling forward onto her knees. The large, black beast slunk into the...