flames can do any more physical damage. The result is each punch sinking a little further into the disgustingly soft flesh. Burning hunks of meat fall from the bone with every new blow. My knee-jerk reaction is exactly that, a donkey kick that sends the howling creature flipping up the steep mountain.

Even on the brink of death, he manages to land on his feet. Those oversized claws are digging a deep trench that helps to slow down his wild, uncontrollable slide. The farther he goes, the deeper it gets. He’s almost buried up to his thick waist by the time he stops.

Waiting at the end of the ditch is a crazed bulldog, hunched over on all fours, sitting inside a self-dug crater. Even with one eye missing, he keeps his hateful gaze permanently fixed on me. The smell of burning,...

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