Three hours later, long after the compound computer system cleaned away the remnants of Gerald and Robert, Trevor sat and sipped his fourth glass of a thousand-year Appleton rum. He looked out on the silver shimmer of the winding river with glossy, drunken eyes. Inebriated with his thoughts swirling, he caught glimpses of a pack of werewolves running in the shadows of the redlit forest. Then he cast a somber glance up to the crimson moon of Lunaris. He watched the molten scarlet swirl as the moon continued its climb across the heavens. –Jeffrey LeBlanc (Crimson Moon)