The ethereal figures on the perimeter of Gertrude’s influence seemed content to hold their positions, but the spooky guy in front of me was not convinced by my words. Possibly he was, or maybe used to be, a higher ranked guardsman. Maybe he was simply belligerent, or more suspicious. For a moment I imagined that I’d be in a pretty bad mood in his circumstance.
Whatever was going on behind those vacant eyes and fetid breath, he’d decided that he wasn’t going to take me at my word and floated closer to me with one arm outstretched.
The cold grew worse and I couldn’t help but shiver.
I was so afraid that the ghost was going to plunge his arm into my body, but I couldn’t think fast enough to move. All my instincts screamed that I should run, run anywhere, to escape this horror, but my feet wouldn’t move.