It is only half way down one such corridor when I realise that the place has become unnaturally quiet. Not a voice whispers down the hall, or a breath of wind, or the call of a bird. Nothing at all, except the plodding of our hurried footsteps and the pants of the hell hound as he sprints ahead.
I only realise a little too late what we are missing.
"Where is-"
As soon as the words leave my throat, something slams into my neck, squeezing round it tightly for a moment before I am knocked to the ground. There is a spluttering howl across the corridor, and a hiss of muffled words that I cannot make out as I groan against the ground, pain shooting up my spine.
But there is no time to rest.
