### 264

The creature stops in mid-stride, as if paralysed by some invisible force. A gurgling croak escapes from its lips and, as it locates your arrow with its trembling paws, it collapses to its knees. Death is but seconds away. It shudders and sways and then keels over on to its back, writhing for one brief moment in the mud and debris of the chapel floor.

Turn to 112.

Text copyright © 1985 Joe Dever.
Illustrations copyright © 1985 Gary Chalk.