The woman had only fallen a few feet away from her bed as well, all dressed and ready for it. He wondered if she knew – when was putting on that nightgown of hers – that she was not preparing merely for bed, but for the long sleep of eternity.
He quickly dismissed that question. Of course she didn't know. If she did, then she likely wouldn't have died.
Still, why did she die, Pash wondered? He couldn't see anything upon the floor that would give her cause to trip. It was wooden and rough just like the rest of the house, but completely flat. There wasn't even a rug upon it. And yet there she had tripped, in the middle of nothing and hit her head so hard that she had died there and then.
"What's your story?" He asked her aloud, surveying the rest of the room. Since he was there, he figured he might as well start his work, just before he threw the logs on the fire as Harkin had told him to do.
