Kintla Flatlands wrought in stygian visions

The call felt as though it had come from nowhere. That in itself was like a cold jolt; an icy plunge down a path that Echelon wasn't sure she intended to go in the first place. Her trek stopped dead in its tracks, saving the part where she wheeled around sharply to face who had called out after her. They were bound to catch up with her, so she was going to make it easy for them. Except for maybe the way she was standing. It was expectant, impatient, non-verbally demanding reasons why she had been stopped in the first place. It wasn't like she really had anywhere to be or anyone to answer to per se, but the point was across. It wasn't appreciated.