Elias hesitated. To open the door was to let the warmth out—and the killing frost in. But the sound came again, weaker this time. He pulled the iron bolt.
Just as the subtitle faded into the darkness of the screen, a rhythmic thud echoed from the door. It wasn't the wind. It was a desperate, heavy beat.
As the shadows lengthened, the stone walls of the watchtower began to moan. The cold was a physical weight, pressing against the wooden door. Elias gathered the last of the pine needles and dry moss he had scavenged. : Sparse and damp. Light : A single, flickering tallow candle. Sound : The wind howling like a pack of starving wolves.
: The leopard’s body heat radiated through the room.
Elias didn't reach for his spear. Instead, he wrapped his tattered wool cloak around himself and sat beside the beast.
He struck a match. The flame was tiny, a golden speck against the encroaching blue-black of the evening. The Uninvited Guest
