Blackfeather Woods each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil

The boy should know better than to eat some random mushrooms, especially after his incident with the parsley, and especially because the stranger before him was obviously reacting to some aspect of it; but that's Mou for you. He was either being outright stupid or pointedly ignorant as he gobbled down the chunks of mushroom. It was a good thing that most of the cluster had been consumed already or Mou might've overdosed, if at all possible. He wanted to be high and that's precisely what he'd be getting — but there was no telling when it would set in, or what he would experience. He licked his lips and turned his attention upon the swarthy male nearby, hearing him say more strange sounds but making no move to intercept him. They're faltering a little, laying down and watching him, and Mou stares right back with a distinct lack of propriety. Its at this moment he recognizes the man as one of the pack's higher ranking wolves — often in the company of Relmyna, and someone he recognized vaguely from the previous gathering.

When they break their eyes away from Mou he feels a sense of triumph that comes out of nowhere; its not something he's used to feeling, not something he wants to feel. Whoever this is, they can't look at him. Mou watches as the man's attention drifts and struggles with focus. Mou slowly becomes aware of a heat trailing through his skin, like he's sitting in direct sunlight at the height of summer. He takes a deep breath, slow, deliberate, and swallows — realizing his mouth is dry. He's been staring at the warrior for a handful of moments too long but cannot take his eyes away. While Wintersbane is looking around, Mou is watching him. He begins to see stuttering after-images of the wolf as he is turning his head and letting his attention drift; Mou thinks he can see so many pieces plotted before him.

He blinks. The trailing images continue, but more shocking are the shadows — they have begun to take on a blue tint in some places, a dark purple in others, and the light, it's become too sharp and difficult for Mou to look at. He squints and the light contorts. The shadows seem to grow, to flutter, and Mou begins to think they aren't shadows at all but feathers.