It's late, later than Rosie's ever been out before, and for the first time ever, she's afraid. Nick and Sam had run off ever so long ago, leaving her with only the moon for company. Trudging determinedly, she wended her way home.
A growl from the bushes was all the warning she had, and she threw up her arm as the black creature leapt out at her. Pain, terrible pain is her forearm, and Rosie screamed shrilly.
A yelp, and the heavy weight was gone. Rosie sat in the road for a long while until the chills shook her so hard her teeth rattled. Her arm was on fire, and dazedly, Rosie struggled to her feet and home.
Not even the scolding she received truly bothered her, and her mother's worry over the bite was reassuring. She bound it tightly and sent Rosie to bed, where she tossed and turned, visions of running under the moon haunting her dreams.
The next morning, her arm didn't feel as bad, and she snuck out of the window to go up to Bag End for her lesson. Mr. Frodo started when he saw her wrapped arm. "Why Rose-lass, what happened to your arm?"
Rosie touched the wrap and grimaced. "I got bitten last night."
Frodo's face went white. "Bit-bitten?"
She nodded, and Frodo wiped his forehead, closing his eyes tight. "Rose, lass. We need to talk."
~