With a jerk and a growl, the Huntsman became instantly aware that he was not alone with his own thoughts. He howled his outrage and turned toward the corpse on the ground. Once more he drew back his fist and struck with savage force. Milo felt a huge burst of pain as that fist struck him in the chest. Not in his floating bodiless nothing of a spirit. He felt it in his actual body. The corpse was not a corpse at all. A split second later, Milo’s body arched upward and Milo let out a scream of pain and confusion. He was immediately torn from the mind of the Huntsman and felt himself dropping an impossible distance down, down, down, as if he were falling a million miles. He slammed back into his own flesh. Every fiber of muscle, every bone, every atom in his body seemed to scream out in pain as spirit and flesh collided. There were two huge points of pain from where the Huntsman had punched him. Milo coughed and sputtered, choked and gagged. He opened his eyes. The Huntsman stood above him, powerful and deadly against this lurid skyscape, and far overhead, the hive ship glowed like a drop of blood in the light of the dying sun.
