Pitit held her breath, feeling like cold fingers brushed up against the back of both hands, a warm, yet viscous breath falling upon her nape, wrapping all around the neck like a hangman's noose, even as those sensations reached the girl, she failed to feel the presence of that other person, like they were actually standing dozens of meters away.
The second reflection impossible to discern amidst the ripples, they seemed to intensify, as if purposefully muddling any visible representation of this intruder, she wanted to turn around and confirm what, or rather, who it was that stood behind her back.
Gathering the strength to ever-so slightly turn her head, Pitit once again froze completely as a hand came running through her hair.
