James:
James knelt on the ground, fully dressed once more, debating whether or not to bother with his one remaining shoe.
What to do now?
The spirit was still hunting him. He could feel it nearby, moving through the underbrush, surprisingly stealthy, given it’s bulk. He’d glimpsed it once, about half an hour ago, its oaken hide shifting against the backdrop, growing a patina of moss and loose bark, matching its environment like a chameleon; near invisible.
He’d given up on