(gathering his thoughts): "Ain’t the first time somethin’ like this happened out here. Maybe not this bad, but… bad enough. My granddad used to talk about things out in the hills. Things that don’t leave tracks like they oughta. Things that come when the sky’s just right, when the air gets that certain stillness. Folks used to listen. Used to take precautions. But after a while, people stop tellin’ stories. Stop listenin’ to ‘em, too."

(his expression darkening slightly): "Then Old Whateley showed up. Didn’t hear him comin’—one second it was just me and her, next thing I knew, he was there, yellin’. Told me to get the hell off his land, called her all sorts of things. Kicked me out, but not before knockin’ that apple right outta my hand like I’d stole it. Never saw her again after that."