Blackfeather Woods Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places

As the face of the disfigured boy slowly formed, it was like watching the creature from the black lagoon rise out of a swamp; he didn't notice at first, and the obscurity that the shadows lent to Ramsay helped to keep the mutant obscured. There was darkness everywhere; Mou was no longer afraid of the great black void that haunted him, that persisted at all times. But when Ramsay's face became so exposed that his eyes glimmered, catching shafts of the grey light, Mou finally took notice of him.

At first he didn't react. That flare of indecision paired with a long history of poppy abuse, which made Mou less inclined to trust what lay before him — with his poor eyesight he could see the glimmering eyes but not make out much depth, so the face wasn't quite registering. Not until the mouth opened, the voice crawled forth — boo, and Mou's body reacted in conjunction with his intense focus.

He lost control for a moment as the thrill of being startled took hold, fur standing on-end and ears lancing back across his skull; his face bowed towards the pair of eyes with a wheezing snarl, but he didn't lash out. Rather, the boy froze in place. He wanted to back up, maybe strike - but he was rigid instead, glaring with an ugly grimace at the floating face in the dark.