Dew Claws — Stephen Gresham

He was Jonathan now. He had 2 foster parents,a room of his own-even a clock radio. Everything was going fine, even the nightmares and the memories of his uncle and 3 brothers being sucked into the fetid mud of Night Horse Swamp were starting to fade... Then it returned. Once again Johnny Ray saw the glimmer of movement in the dark, the smell of the dank odor of decay, felt the withered black claws of horror closing around his heart. It had taken away everything he loved, and now it was back -- for him.