The hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach grows and grows. His hands are clammy. Something breathes behind him, warm breath ghosting over his skin, but all Eichel feels is cold.

He's frozen still, in mind and body both, as the ghost - the dog - takes hold of him. He doesn't resist as his wrists are moved. The dog's claws sink into him, and still he doesn't - can't - move.

"I-- understand." The words are forced out of him, jerky and flat, by a compulsion he can't explain.