On a Seattle street...Hands like grappling hooks grabbed me. They lifted me in the air and then I was flying down the street carried aloft. Tree branches blurred above me. That awful smell enveloped me and I couldn’t even get off a good scream. Worse, I could hardly breathe. I could hear high-pitched sounds and hisses, nothing familiar. My vision was so distorted by panic, the world blurred. It felt as though a tornado surrounded me, spun around me, lifted me, shot upward, plummeted downward, in a whirl of night sky and slashes of light and wet pavement.
Whatever the creature was that carried me, it moved by leaping. It swung me down from overhead, nausea time, and caught me under its arm like a package, with my feet forward and my head hanging back and down.
Every time the thing leaped up in an arc and then did a fast landing before its next leap, my head did a fast dip toward hard pavement. I tried to focus my eyes and immediately regretted that major error because what I saw below me hitting the rain-slick pavement were running feet, long-toed, a sheath of wrinkles, oily, gray-brown, tipped with claws.
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