Greatwater Lake sleeping powder

The drums beat with the rhythm of the beast, synchronizing locomotion with a powerful song that announced the presence of the dark being. Beauty was lost on the creature of the night: sculpted from tar and bone, the behemoth rose from the woods like an unwavering beacon of destruction. It was with chaotic movements that he progressed through the trees that coated the land like a blanket. His balletic manner could have been easily overlooked by the way he moved; it was as if he were a jungle cat, but a cat with a distracted mind. He chose one path, then wavered and flitted to another for merely a few paces, before steering back once again. Indecision, indecision. Details beat incessantly against his brain, clogging his thoughts, increasing his insanity. 

His tongue was gone. 

He had found it interesting, exciting, when the girl had torn it from his mouth, but now he was simply angry. At himself or the girl, he didn't know, he didn't care at the time. The only thing he could care about was what was left in the depths of his mouth; a black pile of flesh where his tongue once lay. He had not cared to rid himself of the blood that foamed in his mouth or dribbled down his lips, nor the blood that stained his white marked chest scarlet. The scent of the liquid was heavy on his body. 

He hadn't eaten much, or done much of anything since then, and it showed. He was thinner, thinner than normal, at least, and his pelt was dirty and who knows what was clumped in the black tresses. 

The man's lithe body slithered through dark trees like that of a snake, paws silent. He edged closer to the lake now, so the water was in view, but he found himself suddenly stopping. He had originally come here for a drink of water, but an unfamilar scent stuck to his nostrils like tar and Snake raised his head, ears alert. He planned on following it until he reached it's owner. 

And reach it's owner he did. 

The boy captured by his emerald gaze was coated in cream, and seemed to be moving relatively fast. A crooked grin curled upon his maw followed by a rumble of laughter low in his chest, although the sound was somehwhat distorted and shapeless, considering the lack of a certain appendage in his jaws. Snake stepped closer, closer, closer to the boy, his pace slower than the other's but fast enough to keep up. 

Snake opened his jaws to speak, to taunt the boy, and utter words to scare him, play with his mind. However, the only sound that left his throat was a strangled gurgle of blood and saliva.