Blackfeather Woods don't trust people you meet

Plastered to the ground as he was, Mou's face logically became somewhat dusty from the soil. His belly had already taken on a clay-shade. He looked worse because of his gaunt face and long limbs, and the missing eye of course wouldn't help matters. The boy was like a risen husk — a zombie, or a humunculus, without purpose.

The fact she avoided him made his chest hurt. That or, his position was straining his chest muscles; it wasn't exactly comfortable. He shuffled to sit up, and disturbed the dirt in the process. A cloud rose up and caught in his nose, and before he knew it a violent sneeze erupted from his long face.