At this point, the perspective changes. You wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Outside, the wind howls about the corners of the lodge as the piling snow sinks it deeper into the chill darkness. You’re not certain why you’ve woke, only that your heart is pounding and your hands are shaking. You forget the badge on the nightstand as a faint sound draws your attention back to the lodge. You don’t bother to turn on the light as you grope your way down the hall. The faint glow from the fireplace throws six shadows about the walls as you peer down from the loft. Six friends sit quietly talking and laughing, catching up with each other. You recognize each of them. You’ve seen them before. A creeping wave of dread runs like ice up your spine. You begin to feel separated from your body. Your vision moves back, through the back of your head. You see yourself standing at the railing, hands now still at your sides. You can feel yourself losing control of your faculties. With a hollow whoosh and a sharp crack, the fire is quenched and the power goes out. No light remains. The only sounds are the deafening howl of the wind and the scream rising in your throat. But it’s not a scream, and it’s not yours.