Sabriel had managed to break off a length of rusted pipe in the house- light enough to carry, but heavy enough to cause damage if swung with enough force- and had even stumbled across a few cans of food that she had stuffed into her pockets for later.

She looked up at the noise, clutching the pipe. When she saw made her eyes narrow and her mind race.

A Dead Hand. One that had been made using a tribute's body. Sabriel lunged forward, swinging the pipe.

"Return to Death!" Her voice had a commanding, singsong quality to it, but the words were just words- this time, there was no magic in them, and Sabriel knew this was unlikely to end well. You could render a Hand's body useless, but the spirit inside would be unscathed- and with night falling, time was not on her side.