In solitude and darkness he is taken. The light flickers upon a shadow in front of him. It does not speak, it does not bend, and slowly moves closer.
Just before a glove covers his mouth he lets out a scream of fear, growing ever distant in the night, but the trees stand guard and keeps it from finding a saviour.
The footsteps of the devil are almost all that is heard, and a light scraping of his prey follow into the void. Scraping, steps, dirt, and dust.