Bastian slept pretty well until the smell of smoke woke him up. The women were already on their feet, conversing about the source of the smoke.
While they could not see any flames, the direction of the wind suggested that they should go south as quickly as possible to avoid getting caught in the flames.
They reached a part of the coastline covered in rocks, and in such a position that the flame would only lick the feet of the protruding promontory.
The promontory was crowned by a small cottage that seemed empty at first, but Bastian had learned to never trust such first impressions.
"Hunter," he asked.
The unnerving thing about the demon was that he was literally in no way different from the demon he had been down there in his own crypt. He was still all pitch black with glowing pinprick white eyes that were hard to look at due to the weird sound still ringing in the ears every other moment.
