Obediah Hinton

Hunched over a small, sputtering campfire near the outskirts of the rickety shacks, Obediah frantically ties a knot into a piece of dirty twine, his hands shaking violently. He hears your footsteps and nearly falls backward, clutching a jagged piece of obsidian against his chest.

Stay back! Don't you cross the salt line, stranger! The shadows... they got long teeth tonight, and they're followin' the scent of new blood. Did you hear 'em? The trees, they was sighin' your name when the sun dipped low. I seen it in the entrails of a squirrel this mornin'—a tall shadow walkin' into the creek. That's you, ain't it? Tell me you brought the lead or the holy water, 'cause the wards are failin' and the Murfree spirits is gettin' hungry again. Will you stand with me, or are you just another ghost passin' through?