With a fierce growl, Thistle attacks the fiendish thing that is trying to kill her beloved mistress. The dog hurls itself at the ghoul, snarling and biting and tearing at the insubstantial substance of which the terrible creature is made. The brave hound cannot hope to inflict any real injury on such a spectral form, but her actions cause it to pause, to turn. Tilda scrambles to her feet, abandoning her hunt for the torc, and sets off running as fast as the slippery ground will let her. As she looks back she sees with horror that the ghost has changed the swing of the pickax so that it descends in a swift, deadly arc, that finds its end point in the soft, yielding fur of the dog. Thistle lets out a heartbreaking yelp and falls to the ground.

‘No!!! You cruel bitch!’ she screams, maddened by sorrow for her dog and frustration at her own powerlessness. Without thinking, not stopping to consider what she is doing, she turns again and runs at the witch.

The ghost turns its mangled, pulpy face to Tilda and grins a terrible, joyless grin. It slowly spreads its arms wide and then brings them forward and up in one sudden movement. Tilda skids to a stop and watches in horror as the metal tent pegs that had been securing the polythene rise up from the ground. They hover in the air and then turn, their points facing her as if directed by some unseen magnet. The quiver, all two, maybe three dozen of them, and in that half second she understands what is about to happen and throws herself onto the ground. She feels the whooshing of the steel spikes as they fly over her head. Peering up, she can see Thistle lying lifeless in the sullied snow. The evil witch lowers her head and begins her charge. Tilda hauls herself to her feet and she runs. She runs faster than she has ever run before, arms and legs powering her over the stony, icy path, lungs working hard and furious, head down, not once pausing to look back, for she knows to do so would cost her precious seconds.

She takes the lower path, the easiest route back around the lake. The creature is gaining on her with every step. More and more objects are flung at her, stones, lumps of wood, whistling past her head, some striking her back, her elbow, her leg. She can see the disused boathouse to her left.

Can I get to it? Would I be able to keep her out if I got in there? Would it make any difference?