It is the fourteenth of the month, it is Twilight.

Hungry hands gather around in a circle, grabbing and ripping it apart like rags - biting into its limbs with salty, metallic-tasting, rich, red blood running down their chins as they chew on its flesh. Breathing heavily, clenching their teeth into its legs, arms and internal organs.

Smiles and sighs of relief appear as a result of sweet relish. But they have not done as they were told. They did not put its blood on the sides and tops of their doorframes – they drank it out of thirst; and they did not roast its meat over a fire – they ate it raw out of starvation and impatience.