He stood up and took a step towards the window. What was he doing? He moved closer, reminding himself that this was a living thing, maybe even a person. It might need help, like Tony Harper had last night. What kind of a man wouldn’t help, if he could?

The patch of condensation continued to pulse in and out as he neared the window. He could see his visitor, or its outline, more clearly, but was none the wiser for doing so. It was very thin, and hunched; Joda thought of a hairless, emaciated dog. Or perhaps an ape. He couldn’t decide; his impression of its form wavered between the canine and simian, even humanoid. It must be the thinness of its front legs that made them look so long; its skeletal shoulders stuck up like blades on either side of its head.

The flurrying snow also confused matters, but not as much as the fabric that swaddled the creature. It was a pale, thin material that surely couldn’t offer any protection worth speaking of to the hairless, fleshless form beneath, and appeared ragged and tattered. Joda’s confusion gave way to unease: who’d dress themselves in that, in any weather? Someone desperate, who’d had no choice in what to wear – someone who’d been held against their will and managed to escape? Or someone whose reason was so distorted that such clothing might seem a rational choice? In other words, either a maniac or a refugee from one.

Assuming this creature was a person, clothed or not; Joda still couldn’t decide if its shape was human or bestial. He moved to one side, trying to view it in profile, but the shape of its head only added to the confusion. It definitely wasn’t a dog, because it had a very human-like high forehead and large round skull, but instead of a mouth and nose it seemed to have a snout or muzzle. Joda couldn’t decide whether it looked more like a man, ape, dog or even an impossibly huge insect with a stubby proboscis.

The creature’s head turned – swivelled – in a single smooth, precise motion, then stopped; less like an animal now than a machine. It made a small movement up, then to one side, then down again – like a remote-controlled weapon, adjusting its aim – until it pointed directly at him.

The wind blew; the fabric flapped and billowed. Otherwise the creature had resumed its earlier motionlessness.

Joda retreated slowly, and the head swivelled to follow him. Mist bloomed and faded on the window. Then two new creatures appeared; gigantic white spiders with repulsively long thin legs that made a faint pattering sound as they crawled up the glass. As they rose to hang on either side of the creature’s face, its shoulders also rose, moving away from its body.

They weren’t shoulders at all, Joda realised, but the creature’s elbows; they’d been sticking up straight in the air because its hands had been resting on the ground, which meant its limbs were even longer than they’d appeared.