The sound of teeth on flesh was loud, but somehow disconnected. It took George a moment longer to work out he was still upright, and turn to discover what had happened.
He knew without being able to see clearly, he knew that the boy- that Adith- had stayed, that he had followed, that it was his flesh that was now ripped by claws and teeth.
He was not a naturally brave man, but primeval fear had turned to primeval rage in his veins, and he knew he could not leave Adith to face his fate alone. It was then he realised he still held his cane tightly in his hand. He had had it made on his discovery of the undead. The outer shell was hardwood, polished and beautiful, but the core was silver, solid and finger-thick. He ran back to the monster, to the boy, desperate to do something. He raised the cane, two handed, and brought it down on the creature's outstretched neck, as hard as he could, once and then again.