Although I generally tend to read non-fiction, I found myself getting engrossed in this chapter.  It's almost like this chapter is an introduction to the next one. It makes one want to continue on and find out more about Felicia and the actual person who is narrating and of course, the "gas men".

It left me wanting more, so hopefully, future chapters will have conversation between the characters and not only a narrative.

Hey Haunter, just an FYI, chapter titles are optional-- if you don't enter one, the title will be: Ashes in Winter, Chapter 2.  If you DO enter one, the title will be: Ashes in Winter, Chapter 2: YOUR TITLE.  So, no need to provide a chapter title if your chapters don't have them

Yes, it's me again, reading the next part of your work as promised. Let's get right to it:

There are few moments in my new life that have truly amazed me.The way Felicia moved through that forest was the first.

That insinuates that, by the time he's begun telling this story, he's had others, which in turn removes him from the "now" of the story, if you know what I mean. My only issue with this is that it's in conflict with the beginning of the first chapter, which acts as though we the reader are learning alongside him about all these new events, not looking back over a fire and some good tea. Though that does sound good, now that I mention it.

Anyway, a small thing. Do with it as you will.

Also, are you going to take up the suggestion about having him have momentary flashbacks throughout the beginning? If you decide to do that with the first chapter, make sure to do it with this one as well; it would seem odd for him to suddenly stop having them altogether.

On two occasions she had to stop and wait for me, despite her mounting apprehension.

Don't just bait me with telling me her apprehension is mounting--how is it mounting? How can we see this manifested in her? The old adage "show, don't tell" is appropriate here. And it's true; if you describe exactly what is showing her apprehension, instead of simply the fact she's showing it, it'll help develop her character far better.

Each massive wooden sentinel seemed to grow into the next

Superb choice of words there. "Wooden sentinel," especially, is a powerful image. Bravo. My only suggestion is to remove "rather than away from it," as that is assumed with the fact that they are growing into the next. You've only two options there, really, either into or away from.

The rocks were less here.

This is a line I'd like to see some improvement on. Maybe it's just my internal grammar Nazi going mad saying it should be "rocks were fewer," but it is a detail that would be worth developing. Just because you have fewer rocks doesn't mean it's worth noting--unless, of course, there's an important reason for there to be rocks.

And what I could tell for sure was that the hole surely extended into darkness.

For surely, I'm sure.

I am an odd man. And as sure as my name has remained in my memory, so has my ability. What makes me odd is a bizarre combination of intuition and empathy. In other words, I can see where powerful influxes of conflict or emotion occur and I can remotely view the area. One might believe it to be a blessing.

This part threw me. It seems out of place with the rest of the story, not necessarily due to the concept of him sensing emotion, but the way it's presented. First, what do you mean by "remotely viewing" the area? Also, how is this manifesting itself right now? Does he have an "attack" of emotion, or suddenly see great waves of red flowing from within? Have whatever this power is hit him, instead of allowing him to muse contentedly about it. By having this exposition, you're stepping outside of the action of the story, a move sure to dissuade readers who are in the middle of the tense scene.

One is wrong. I can’t control what I see. And during powerful viewings, I tend to slip into a trance-like state. It’s annoying to say the least. As sure as these events range in magnitude, so does what I sense. Sometimes I can only see. Sometimes I can only hear.

It all depends on context.

This is the same as the paragraph before; show, don't give Asher a chance to jump up on his soap box and take us through to the next commercial break. Keep us within the action, even if it means having to wait until later to explain the full extent of his power. If so, all the better; that just means all the more time that your reader is left with, "What the hell did he just do? Cool!"

Right then, however, all I could do was hear. And immediately, I thanked God that was all. A bestial groan that throbbed in time with an unknown beat. Inhuman like a gust of wind through the halls of a crypt, but urgent like the stamping hoof of an angry bull.

I'll be honest, these last few paragraphs feel rushed. Again, I'd like more detail--what's happening? Are these the responses he's developing from his intuition? Is this coming from whatever the others were looking at? Even if you don't fully detail what the monsters are, you should still give a clearer context of what exactly Asher is experiencing.

Felicia sensed it too, and she spoke three simple, succinct words. "The Gas Men."

Ironically, this would be an even more simple, succinct end if you took out simple and succinct. "Felicia sensed it too, and she spoke. "The Gas Men." With that, you have an even stronger clincher to an already powerful end.

You're still driving well into your story, and I'm enjoying seeing what you do with it. As I get to know the feeling of your writing better, I would highly suggest spending time elaborating on specific details. Spend more time developing unique, creative ways of describing this new world that's around Asher. I think the best example of this is your line about the "concrete" skies--I want to see a lot more of that. If you could filter writing of that caliber throughout the rest of this work, you could create a very strong, vivid world that Asher has found himself in. While that may seem secondary to the plot, it will greatly help draw the reader in and create more distinct, flowing prose. Your strength is in your storytelling, your flaw in your description. If you work out some of those smaller bumps in the description and language, you'll find you've polished up a perfectly respectable piece of storytelling. Honestly, that's a great position to be in as a writer. Keep up the good work!

Haunter,

I understand this section is not meant to be a chapter break. However, you might consider keeping it with "chapter 1" because it serves as the missing component of the last section. Here, we build some tension to the plot and finally introduce some conflict to propel the story... yet the scene doesn't change. If the scene or subject doesn't change, there's no real reason to break it up into different "chapters." The end of "chapter 2," Felicia says "The Gas Men" and it feels like an end into another "chapter," although I would delay a little more to give some more hints as to what the Gas Men are-- like showing some force trying to break through the trees, or blood, or bodies, or anything suspenseful (without showing the actual "monster").

Since I know you're not breaking the story up into chapters, I can't comment much on how well this works as a "chapter" in a novel.

There are few moments in my new life that have truly amazed me. The way Felicia moved through that forest was the first. Her hands traced tree trunks as she dodged between rocks, over logs, and under branches. I could barely keep up with her pace, through all the obstacles. On two occasions she had to stop and wait for me, despite her mounting apprehension.

Like great wooden towers, the trees reached high above. Unlike the sparseness of foliage earlier, the vegetation grew dense here. Each massive wooden sentinel seemed to grow into the next, rather than away from it. Trees wound together, creating patches of timber so dense that no one would negotiate a path through it. Not even Felicia, it seemed.

Pgph 1 is in present tense. Pgph 2 is in past tense. I discussed this in my commentary on section 1. This is very distracting.

Pgph 2 and 3 are rather descriptive, but for me the plot seems to demand speedier pacing. If something scary is going on, the narrative probably shouldn't stop to look at the trees, the foliage, and vegetation. I understand we're trying to create more images here, but when description gets in the way of a chase sequence, it slows down the action.

Trees wound together, creating patches of timber so dense that no one would negotiate a path through it. Not even Felicia, it seemed.

Also, the words "no one would" would switch perspective from 1POV to Omniscient. This is generally not allowed.

I felt the next few paragraphs (3,4,5) felt a little weaker to me. 3 contains some unnecessary description that I felt slows the plot. In 4, "I was glad" can easily be replaced with something stronger-- and the rest of 4 contained some more unnecessary technical stage-direction-esque description. 5 was better, but I didn't like "but something about it gave me cause to wonder if this was why I needed to shut up." Just didn't match the narrative voice to me.

Paragraphs 6-10 also contained a good amount of stage/camera direction type of description that didn't flow well for me. The imagery felt choppy as well (Examples: "something that had been there since the dawn of this planet" "it was that of a huge predator wound up" "I discovered its other face" "And what I could tell for sure was that the hole surely extended into darkness" "The sun had descended from its earlier angle, and now sat perched on the unseen horizon. Light around us was thin, and although she didn't need it, Felicia seemed to be more on edge for its state.")

Strangely, as the plot progressed, I felt the prose suffered because of its inability to be still. I liked elements of chapter 1 in which the main character was able to be still-- looking at scenery, taking in the sensory experience-- but once things started happening, the writing felt (to me) disjointed and uncontrolled.

I wholly agree with Inkblot's comments on the section here:

I am an odd man. And as sure as my name has remained in my memory, so has my ability. What makes me odd is a bizarre combination of intuition and empathy. In other words, I can see where powerful influxes of conflict or emotion occur and I can remotely view the area. One might believe it to be a blessing. One is wrong. I can’t control what I see. And during powerful viewings, I tend to slip into a trance-like state. It’s annoying to say the least. As sure as these events range in magnitude, so does what I sense. Sometimes I can only see. Sometimes I can only hear. It all depends on context.

It removes the reader from the action of the scene. It's a very risky maneuver and I don't really think it works.

I'm not sure if the metaphors/similes in the next paragraph work:

Right then, however, all I could do was hear. And immediately, I thanked God that was all. A bestial groan that throbbed in time with an unknown beat. Inhuman like a gust of wind through the halls of a crypt, but urgent like the stamping hoof of an angry bull.

Some parts of these sentences didn't work for me, either:

My mental connection cut out, and I knew it right away. Whatever it was, it had the intent to come right for us. I opened my mouth to try and communicate this with Felicia

And more stage direction:

Contrasting well against the swiftly darkening clearing,

After finishing this chapter, I get a better sense of what type of story this is going to be and where it's going. However, I wasn't more sucked in after finishing "chapter 2" than I was after "chapter 1." On the whole, I felt the writing in your first "chapter" was stronger, mostly because I enjoyed the sound of the words and the strength of your imagery. There's a way to get the action to blend with the imagery without losing the progression of your plot, and my guess would be it lies in organization. However, it's your story--you're the author and I couldn't tell you how to do it. I suspect if you continue studying successful published work in this genre, you'll be able to develop this work even further.

Best of luck!