Three hours into trying to make conversation with the beautiful lady to no avail, Freddie begins to tire. He feels like he has been looking at the painting for so long that he has committed every single detail of her to memory. All of a sudden though, eyes appear out of the darkness behind her that blink and glow amber. The log to his right seems to want to tell him something. How is that possible? Is love driving him to madness? The owls are not what they seem.