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	[u]Weather[/u]: It has passed cool and gone to cold, but not yet freezing. Low to still wind, and fog remains the bulk of what one sees at any distance. 

	[u]Time[/u]: It is the beginning of nighttime. The sun is officially down, the moon is officially full, and the screams have officially started. [i]Officially.[/i]

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The exterior of the building stood as a cold mockery of a place where one might go for a short vacation or temporary lodging, no doubt heightened by the growing discomfort of the evening. The trailing festival decorations and stacks of colorful gourds lend a more eerie feel to the structure, rather like the atmosphere of an abandoned carnival at midnight. The moon floats quietly overhead, visible through the fog if nothing else was. The sound of rats just beyond visible distance is quieter here, further away, as if the swarms of tiny animals did not wish to approach.
   

[center][h2][color=darkgray]*******[/color][/h2][/center]

	The interior of the Bed & Breakfast is quiet, but not oppressively so. The only source of light on the ground floor is that of Lizbeth's candle, or was until those from the party entered the building with their various points of illumination. The ground floor was open and almost sterile in appearance, as if taken to by a meticulous housekeeper. Stone and tile surfaces clean, wood polished, everything arranged in particular order. A lounge area toward the front of the room boasts well constructed (if a bit rustic) furniture, and the table settings on the other side of the room are near to immaculate.

	Lizbeth herself looked much like a lost child at a county fair. She glanced about uncertainly, looking from person to person who had just entered as if to receive an answer to an unasked question. The note in her hand was slightly crumpled, having been held tightly by the young girl since its discovery. When Kathryn asked for it, Lizbeth nodded her head slowly and shakily held out the note for her to inspect. It was short and very pointed, written with a bold hand and in large, blocky letters:

[center][b][i][color=darkgray]WILL BE RIGHT BACK.[/color][/i][/b][/center]

	Tears formed in Lizbeth's eyes, silently trailing down her cheeks. She might not have known [i]exactly[/i] what was going on, but deep inside she had an approximate idea and her sense of denial was faltering fast.