Becky rolled and slithered further and further towards the river. Everything she tried to grab hold of gave way in her hands. She clawed frantically at the mud but only succeeded in tracing patterns in it.

Until she came to a sudden stop against something hard.

Becky looked around, then upwards. Her heart stopped, her mouth sagged open: it was a pair of boots. The owner of which leered down at her through the mist which was rising off the ground. He had the strangest eyes and skin she had ever seen. Becky had seen no man like him before.

It was Isaiah Coburn: the albino.

‘What a present to be made to us in such difficult times,’ he grinned …
(A Herne the Hunter Western #2:)