Fernando’s golden days with Carmencita were few and far between. Golden or not, his days with her were altogether numbered. He was eight years old when she died. Had she not been the type to leave him to his own devices for long stretches at a time, he might have worried at her being gone

If much in the world were mystery the limits of that world were not, for it was without measure or bound and there were contained within it creatures more horrible yet and men of other colors and beings which no man has looked upon and yet not alien none of it more than were their