It was raining lightly as he crossed the meadow, but it wasn't the weather that bothered him so much as the darkness of the witching hour; the starlight was hidden behind the heavy cloak of dense cloud-cover, and as the ghost roamed he found himself easily startled by the shifting wind through the reeds. He thought he could hear the beating of massive wings as the gusts increased, and on more than one occasion he'd drop to the dirt and make himself as small as possible, eyes wide with fright.
As the wind died down so would his anxiety, but it would never leave him completely. The man's route crept across the rolling hillside until his single tired eye landed upon the forest, and in a fit of panic he bolted for the solace that it would lend him.
Mou entered the woods thereafter, yet as he felt a spasm in his wiry haunches he slowed to a trot, then a sleepy ambling, his tongue dropping from one side of his still-red muzzle. There were no signs of giant black beasts nor did he hear the roaring of any dragons - real or imagined - but there remained a strong sense of impending doom, a dread, which had rooted itself in his heart ever since he'd awakened by the river.
He knew this wasn't the right place for him. He didn't belong here, in this peaceful spit of forest - he should've been seeking out the familiar vantablack of Blackfeather Woods; he hadn't forgotten it, nor had he forgotten his beloved Maegi. For now he needed to reacquaint himself with the world, and so Mou would camp out wherever he could. One day he'd return home to her - one day, when he knew it was safe and that demons of the void weren't out to steal him away.
As the wind died down so would his anxiety, but it would never leave him completely. The man's route crept across the rolling hillside until his single tired eye landed upon the forest, and in a fit of panic he bolted for the solace that it would lend him.
Mou entered the woods thereafter, yet as he felt a spasm in his wiry haunches he slowed to a trot, then a sleepy ambling, his tongue dropping from one side of his still-red muzzle. There were no signs of giant black beasts nor did he hear the roaring of any dragons - real or imagined - but there remained a strong sense of impending doom, a dread, which had rooted itself in his heart ever since he'd awakened by the river.
He knew this wasn't the right place for him. He didn't belong here, in this peaceful spit of forest - he should've been seeking out the familiar vantablack of Blackfeather Woods; he hadn't forgotten it, nor had he forgotten his beloved Maegi. For now he needed to reacquaint himself with the world, and so Mou would camp out wherever he could. One day he'd return home to her - one day, when he knew it was safe and that demons of the void weren't out to steal him away.
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