A little one wanted to run right into its midst? Maybe whatever had growled so menacingly before had grown impatient since the last time fresh meat had been sucked into its territory. A tendril shot out of nowhere, it seemed, and wrapped itself so tightly around the boy’s [Carlton] ankle that he would most surely fall.

Three tendrils followed suit for the other boys.

Run, boys, run.

The growl deepened, just as menacingly, but it almost sounded gleeful.