Non-classifiable
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An instant later, my mind registers this certainty: She is not of this world. My throat constricts, strangling my scream. The choking sound I manage is no more than a whimper. I yank my sleeping bag over my head and hold it tight. Maybe I pant a little in the utter black of my cocoon. What is she doing? The sweat oozing from every pore on my rigid body itches. Has she gone? I strain to hear something, anything, over the roar of my blood. I wait for a very long time.
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"Oh, don't be such sucks, you guys. It's just gonna scare them, that's all," Matt told us. Cory and I stood there watching Garrett and Matt work their tightly packed balls of snow. We'd never used a rock inside a snowball before.
