Something slumps onto the ground from a standing position, stretching sinew and muscles, bones cracking. It digs it claws into the cold mud and drags itself up, opening its eyes to get a look at you. With its eyes fixed on you, it begins to rise. Standing taller and taller until it settles around seven feet, staring down at you. It reaches a claw towards you, finally passing into the light you can see it: 'A red furry hand?' You think to yourself. It grabs your shirt and lifts you up above it, still with its unwavering stare piercing your state of mind. It utters only a single word in a deep, raspy voice that sounds more like a corpse dragging across gravel. "Coffee..." it then sets you back down onto your feet, takes its hand away and trudges in some unseen direction.