"It’s him," Van Helsing corrected, drawing a silver-edged kukri. "And he’s tired of running."
Van Helsing didn't look back. He was watching the way the mist swirled in the valley below. It wasn't moving with the wind; it was pulsing, like a slow, grey lung. He knew that rhythm. It was the breath of something ancient, something that didn't need to breathe at all. "We don't have three days," Van Helsing said. Van Helsing - Miles and Miles ...
The distance between them and their quarry had shrunk from miles to yards in a heartbeat. From the tree line, a shape detached itself—a towering mass of elongated limbs and pale, translucent skin. It moved with a sickening fluidity, blurring the line between man and beast. "It’s him," Van Helsing corrected, drawing a silver-edged
Should we focus the next chapter on the or follow their desperate escape through the pass? It wasn't moving with the wind; it was