Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright: The Frigid Melody

The Spirit on the Doorstep pt. 2

The freezing wind bit at Layton's nose and cheeks as he and Phoenix ran, hunched over, across the small square towards the bridge. He pressed his scarf over his face and breathed into it, washing warmth over his cheeks, and pressed his hands into his pockets to protect his gloveless fingers from the cold. Only a few seconds outside and he was already regretting this decision.

Not only that, but the prickling on the back of his neck was becoming unbearable.

When they reached the bridge, Phoenix crouched behind one of the lampposts that stood at its corner and motioned for the Professor to stay behind him as he looked down its length to the mainland village.

Phoenix sighed a billowing cloud of steam into the air.

"Crap-" he whispered.

"Language, Phoenix," Layton interjected before he could get any further.

His warning earned him a glare of annoyance before Phoenix looked back down the bridge.

"...crud," he muttered instead. "I know this bridge is the most direct route to the village, if not the only route, but does it really have to be so exposed?"

Layton hunched his shoulders and wished he had brought a pair of earmuffs with him. He looked back towards the cottage he was renting and cringed at the sight of two clear, sharp, distinct sets of footprints leading from there to where he and Phoenix now stood.

Unless it snowed again soon, it would become abundantly clear to anybody willing to look for them that someone had come and gone from the cottage during the night. Unless they assumed it was Phoenix and Luke, questions were bound to be raised.

He followed Phoenix's gaze down the bridge. Even more exposed than this square.

But by this point, they didn't have any choice in the matter.

"I understand how you feel," he said, "but if we just stay calm and keep our heads down, we should make it to the cave entrance without incident."

"Ugh," he heard Phoenix sigh. "You'd better be right about this."

He stayed low, crouched beside the railing that ran along the side of the bridge, and Layton followed his lead as he ran across, pausing and looking back every now and again to make sure either the Professor was still there or they weren't being followed.

The snow was about three inches deep. Perhaps more. Deep enough that it came right up to their ankles, at least. Deep enough for their weight not to reach all the way down to the bridge's wooden surface, preventing them from slipping or squeaking that would alert any listeners to their presence.

Nevertheless, every crunching footstep was like a punch to Layton's stomach. He felt like any moment, somebody could leap out of the shadows and apprehend them both.

And this prickle on the back of his neck just was not going away.

Okay. They'd made it across. Phoenix grabbed the Professor by the shoulder and Layton allowed himself to be pulled into the thankfully empty shadows by the side of the library.

"Right," Phoenix hissed. "We're on the mainland. Where do we go from here?"

Layton raised his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed the hairs that were standing on end.

He hadn't seen anybody else outside since they had departed, so if they were being watched, it must be by somebody they didn't have any hope of seeing.

As far as he could tell, much as he disliked it, there was one very clear explanation for that sensation.

"First things first," he said to Phoenix, "what's our spirit situation?"