Haunted Wood I don't want your money

it was not the doe that drew merrick's attention, nor the rumbling of the ground. it was the bruised girl-child, her contusions engendering something akin to lust in him. it flickered briefly; he dared not feed the basic ember, lest it burst into something he might not be able to rein back.
a child, bloodied — he desired after the taste of her innocent wounds, as he had upon the mountain. merrick found himself changed, a thirst vibrating always in his throat.
the nightwalkers would tear his flesh to pieces if he laid hurt upon one of their own.
and so merrick only drew near some steps, drifting as if he had come upon the child by accident. "i can help you catch something better if you want," the boy offered after a few moments, tossing an affable grin her way.