Fíadh keeps step right behind Detlef as he inches closer, white-knuckled grip secured on her sword. Normally she would scowl at his glib remarks but somehow that all fades away to background noise as her eyes remain fixed to the shadowed figure. But she widens her eyes as the realization of what she’s seeing comes into focus, right at the same time she hears the thing whimper. A very human whimper. Instantly Fíadh moves into action, cutting away at the tangles and trying her hardest to keep from nicking the already-suffering person inside.

“Captain, Detlef, help me!”

As wretched as it is a niggling doubt keeps root in her brain; maybe this person is the killer? But she’ll never know if they’re too dead to answer questions.