When warm winds blow from the mountain and meet the sea air, a haze forms around the village. The old women, feeling the change in the breeze, remember the ritual. Noises of play die out, replaced by scurrying and hushed commands by frightened mothers.
At each house a red lantern is lit. The doors and windows are shuttered and barred in turn. When the mist arrives, creeping, it finds only one man. Old, frail, asleep and alone, he’s consumed, no trace left. The curse leaves. There are no more men to take. Only women and children, all safely awake.