Jacob follows, his own gaze sweeping over it and making a soft hum of approval. There were other routes, but this one seemed the most stable to take them out of here.

"I don't think it's personal." Jacob replies, "They're after anything alive. But there are things after us, in general." It's a little complicated, as far as Jacob understands, and he hasn't been here long enough himself to explain it well.

But he can at least prep this poor bastard a bit for what he's going to learn.

"Are there monsters in your world? Do the dead get up again?"

They don't where Jacob is from. There's no ghosts, hellhounds, vampires, faeries, werewolves or wizards. Magic is sleight of hand and that alone. He's still trying to get used to the fact it exists here. And he doesn't much like it.