Ludwig tightened his grip on Durandal.
The leather around the hilt creaked softly under the pressure of his gauntlet, fingers curling just a little tighter than necessary. The weight of the blade grounded him, familiar and reassuring, but it didn't dull the prickle crawling up the back of his neck. Something was wrong. Not loud wrong. Not obvious. The kind that crept in quietly and sat just behind your spine.
"I don't like it when things creep up on me" he muttered as he, against Gale's advice, turned.
There was a brief hesitation, just a fraction of a second where instinct told him not to. Gale's earlier warning echoed faintly in his mind. Don't turn. Don't react. Don't give it attention.
Ludwig ignored it anyway.
Only to see a monstrosity of a creature behind him.
The world seemed to narrow for a moment, sound dulling, breath catching in his throat. It hadn't been there a second ago, or if it had, then something was very wrong with how perception worked on this mountain.
