Phantom Hollow It's not so bad to be mad.

That 'thing' was Slade, emerging from the mists of the Hollow like some dark reaper to snatch the soul of this fallen wolf. He actually was on his way to kindly kill the thing that kept making noise which in turn scared away his prey. He could hear not only the song, but the coughing that resounded around his home, and that only spelled more predators coming to end this guy, rather than prey.

Volcanic irises landed on the half golden-half ebony wolf, a look a unreadable bias hung on the behemoth. The Nightmare King murmurred to the bleeding out wolf, a yearling that looked no more age than the very same Makaro he harbored.

"You are awefully deafening for something that supposed to be dying. Who's this screaming for, boy?"

He stood patiently waiting for the strange colored lad to resort to non-singing communication.