It was still after her. Whatever that thing was. Relentlessly hunting her. She couldn’t see it. Could barely detect its presence at all. Slippery bastard. It was like trying to hold onto something covered in oil. It was about as easy as trying to bathe a cat. Its nature was hard to determine but it absolutely reeked of decay so it seemed safe to assume it was some kind of undead.
And it was patient. Marsha was tempted to call it arrogant. Or just plain psychotically cruel. That was assuming it possessed the capacity for such traits at all. What she could sense of its mind felt far more feral. More bestial than a sapient being. But it also appeared to have a predatory cunning more advanced than any beast Marsha had encountered before.
Somewhere between a beast and a thinking self aware
