Loka forced herself to steady her breathing, drinking deeply of the cold, throat-numbing forest air and trying to stay upwind of the redolent torch-smoke which threatened to blot out everything else.  

Yes, there was blood, thick and heavy, but it was to one side, and nearer than it should be -- Ah.  The bodies on the road, of course, laced with a thin, lingering trace of old fear.  The inquisitor had surely been right.  Whatever had befallen them, they had not been prepared for it.

"I.. cannot say." she whispered apologetically, "But... There is [i]something.[/i]  That way." She pointed past him, through the torchlight.  "Something different.  Not belonging."