A cold, damp cloth lapped at Toby’s forehead. His eyes shot open and he lashed out, gasping and kicking his legs. The familiar crunch of snow made him realise he was outside the carriage now, laying on a bed of snow.
‘Whoa, whoa. We’re alright now,’ Stella assured him. ‘You’re fine, Toby.’
‘Uh?’ For a moment, he floundered, scrambling to sit up. ‘Where’s the ghost? Where is he?’
‘In the carriage. Harry made you pass out.’
‘Harry?’
‘My apologies.’ The ghost’s voice was soft now. It had the whispered quality of an old priest. ‘I was only trying to scare you. I forgot you living souls need to breathe.’
Shifting his gaze, Toby squinted at a robed figure with a bald head. The man was stooped nearby, distracted by Violet, who was wrestling her way out of his grasp.
‘Hey, get off her!’ Tob
