Witch's Marsh stones and bones

of course! i can't resist threads with you lmao

Oh yes, this was fun. While not a violent beast at heart, Voodoo had a cruel streak a mile wide, cruelty he preferred to devote to more subtle acts. This day, this hour, he was the crawling feeling at the back of your neck. He was eyes in the dark, unseen but watching. He was a ghost, his malice intangible.

Voodoo wasn't too good in a fight, which would only be a problem if he was discovered. As it was he was pleased to spy, pleased to hone skills that would only be practical to a wolf in a pack. If he was found, he'd run. If he was caught, he'd fight. He wasn't a betting man, but if he was, it wouldn't be on him in a fight. All he could do was skulk, but damn was he good at it.

It took a good deal of self control to swallow his laughter when his victim began to speak. Rather than respond (like an idiot) he hunkered down, pressing flat to the ground to better hide himself. Sure, the smell was terrible, but it was worth it for the continuation of his game.