With every step in the direction of the ravine, which by now had developed a synonymy with dread and peril in Highball’s mind, the throbbing uneasiness lodged in the back of her mind festered.  Her chipper pace devolved into a slow and deliberate stride, and her hazel eyes pored over every little obstacle in her path as if even the puniest of pebbles might hide the nastiest of teeth and claws.  If not for this constant and heart-pounding vigilance, she might have otherwise grown bored on the hour-long trek through dreary waste and moonlit scrubland.  More than anything, the sounds plagued her.  She found herself trusting less and less in the ability of her eyes when she failed to spot even a single trace of any of the hypothetical creatures who cast skitters and scratches out from beneath the wiry brush.  As such, she quickly noticed the railroad ties when they appeared before her.  [i]Not pre-industrial.  That’s good.  Though whether or not anything works is an entirely different matter.[/i]  Their condition did not fill her with hope, though the very idea seemed foreign in such a world as this.

In time, the land changed dramatically.  Paraanon Ravine proved to be a gargantuan cleft in the earth, with one of the corners at the end of the crude rode leading steeply down into the depths.  Very little gratification came to Highball, however; from within the mist she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt there lurched some unseen horror, tailing her from behind.  Moving slowly, Highball turned, switching her weapon from cane form to rake form.  If she could take on anything, she felt, it would be the owner of a single set of footsteps, and light ones at that.  Like a spreading fan, the tines pivoted into position, their deadly points ready for whatever might come.

From the fog stumbled a tortured soul.  Gruesomely blind, he attempted to approach Highball, his arms held out like feelers to brush across her skin.  Though not quite terrified anymore now that she could see the mystery presence, Highball nevertheless deemed the beggar a threat, despite –or perhaps because of- his pleadings for help.  The desperate did desperate things.  Flipping her rake up, she pushed out gently but firmly with the harmless butt of the weapon, repelling his advance.

At that moment, the hairs on the back of Highball’s neck stood on end.  Her breath caught in her throat.  Without forewarning, something new had appeared—she could feel it.  Like a predator mere inches away from its unsuspecting prey, it bored into the back of the woman’s head with a presence far larger and direr than the beggar’s.  Suddenly panicked, Highball span on her heels and swung her rake with all the frantic power she could muster at whatever abomination lurked behind her, imagined or no.