He stops at that. “That can't be right, I was elsewhere before I was here.”
Whispered hisses surround him, getting louder, phrases that he can't quite hear coming from every direction.
Something brushes against his skin, cold as the grave. He turns, and turns again, becoming disorientated.
A final turn and it's before him, long fangs glint.
He gasps, staggering backwards. The creature is upon him, foul breath suffocating him. He knows he's done for, when a whip cracks above his head and the creature vanishes.
“Well now tinkerer, how did you get lost in a recurring dream?”
