The unblinking eye of the crow follows the figure as it disappears and reappears between the lines of yew trees that mark the pathway from churchyard to rectory. The black, obsidian eye follows the small clouds of warm breath escaping through the muffled face of the shrouded stranger – little clouds of condensation that hang in the frozen air like the puffs of steam from a train passing along the bottom of the valley.
It has been two days since the solicitor posted notice of auction on the Reverend’s possessions - that gives the Wanderer just one more night to find the remains of the necromancer extract the one thing that could turn the hocus-pocus of the ritual into a terrifying reality.....The wizard's skull.