The Law by Candlelight

The Lake is far behind them, now. And the faces of the villagers have turned from plaid to pale. The deputy whispers, "They don't trust us." But it falls on deaf ears. The roads are empty, and the only sounds that filter through the woods are those belonging to things best left alone. "Don't worry, we'll find it," says the sheriff after another long day. And the deputy fears he's right. Fears the consequences that will flow from it. He lies down at night and mumbles his prayers. "Lake of Mercy wash me in your clean waters. Lake of Mercy protect me. Lake of Mercy watch over me. Lake of Mercy protect me . . . "