Vincent watched the undead retreat with a loathsome expression. What a petulant and childish being. He turned his attention to the risen corpse of the old man, this time with more pity in his expression. With a single, fluid stroke, Vincent drew his sword, lopping off the zombie's head. As the corpse decintigrated and the ashes were scattered away by the harsh winds, Vincent offered a wordless prayer for the old pilgrim, who was now returned to his blessed sleep.

He finally turned to answer Roze's incessant queries, if only to quiet her. "It was cerrtainly not a vampire. Something far more... unsavory. I won't speak on the subject any more. Come, we must press on. We need to reach High Hrothgar before daybreak. Great discomfort awaits us both if we tarry. Perhaps an increased pace will keep you from freezing to death, child." He then set out again, continuing stubbornly into the biting headwind.