"Alright, you have a deal," Cash joked, as if he could successfully protect Greengrass from wolves. He could try, maybe. He tugged his coat on. "Bring the bottle?" Cash asked, on their way out into the entry hallway and out the front door of the manor. It was dark, outside, except for the bright white glow of the almost-full moon - and the wind whipped around the building, cutting into the gap between Cash's collar and his neck. He shivered, and glanced behind him.

"Which way, since you're the spirit expert?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at Greengrass.

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