One moment Ash’s eyes were closed, the next they were wide open and staring up at the ceiling. He lay still, regathering his senses, for a second or two his mind a blank sheet. And then it came to him, a sudden recognition of events and circumstances. He shut his eyes again, raising a hand to cover them, struggling to bring some order to the thoughts that flooded in. He began to understand. Ash uncovered his eyes and wondered why the room was so dark. How long had he slept? Rising from the bed, he went to the window and drew back the curtains. His body tensed when he saw the fog outside, a yellowish, curling mist that all but obscured the houses and village hall on the other side of the green. It turned and drifted, lazy in movement, somehow sinister in texture. Its unearthliness was heightened by the absolute silence out there, a total lack of normal activity. No footsteps or voices, no birds calling to each other, and no traffic; even the inn itself was bereft of the usual muffled tones of customers in the bar below.
