When I first met him he was still living with his mother, over near Spring Lake
"Where you going to" and he'd say, "oh, hunting, be back this evening,"
I said to the child, "Shame on you, what's got into you!"--scolding, but keeping her right up close to me at the same time, because I was frightened too. Frightened to shaking.
It was like his hair fried away in the sun light and was gone. He was white all over like a worm's skin.
But it picked up a heavy fallen tree branch in its long white foot, and shoved the end of that down into our house, at me. I snapped the end of it in my teeth and started to force my way out, because I knew the man would kill our children if it could.
The others were drawing back from the kill, because of the taste of the blood, and the smell. The younger ones were cowering and some crying, and my sister rubbed her mouth against her forelegs over and over to get rid of the taste. Resolution: The wife's husband dies and doesn't go back to what he was.