My eye? [ Scowling, he put a hand to his eyepatch, fingers curling tight over the black fabric. ] That's right. They took it. They're always taking things away from me.
[ There is a howling of the wind through the trees, and with it comes a low rumbling. A murmur. A crowd shouting unintelligible things. The lights are back, but they're orange and yellow, and flicker like flames might. ]