Tyler looked back, once, and immediately regretted it. It was following him. Why was it following him? Had he offended it? He did not stop running, plowing through the treeline into the woods proper.

He glanced over, and was surprised to see the ghost hand floating along beside his head carrying his bag. He reached out and grabbed it from the thing, then had a thought. He wasn't special. He wasn't even tasty. Why was this thing chasing him and not literally any of the other, bigger, better meals?  Maybe it wasn't chaining him. Maybe it was the ghost.

"Shoo!" He shouted at it. "Get outta here! Go on, get. Leave!" The hand obeyed, falling back and disappearing through a tree, where he lost sight of it. Then he heard something whistling through the air, and he turned to his other side just in time to see a translucent tentacle whipping at his head. He screamed.

He didn't have to, however. The ghost hand, moving like a blur, descended from the treetops like the blade of a guillotine to chop the tentlacle down to the dirt before floating back up and regaining its place by his side. "Sorry! You hang around, I don't mind anymore!" He said, doubling his pace.