When I noticed what had made Shelly let out that small scream of terror, I immediately used my hand to press her head firmly against my ribs, blocking her view of what she had seen, shielding her eyes with my body.
"Don't stare at it. It's rude," I rubbed her head gently to calm her down, my fingers running through her hair in slow and soothing strokes. "Some things in this place don't like being looked at directly."
With this lesson learned the hard way, I trusted that Shelly would never stalk a person again.
Undoubtedly, I would later come to know how completely wrong I was about that assumption, and how little Shelly had actually learned from this terrifying experience.
But that is another matter entirely, a story for another day.
By the way, what scared Shelly so badly that she screamed was a small mountain sitting in the distance, seemingly harmless and ordinary at first glance.
