Shadow Mountain unpleasantville

She was loud and obstinate — a credit to her bloodline despite his ignorance of it, or of their connection — but he wasn't offended by her attitude in the slightest. Too often Mou was the ghost in the trees, or the wraith lingering upon the contours of this foreign mountain, unable to associate with others because of his ruined throat. Too often he was this lurking entity, this observer. He was accustomed to it, and people often found him unnerving.

He would give her the benefit of the doubt: she was a stranger in a strange land as far as he could tell and nobody liked to be stalked. He made himself known with heavier steps and got closer, enough at least so she could get a good look at him. He lifted his head - almost a challenge - just to flash the curving pink scar of his throat at her, which might've been obscured by his leather collar. Would that explain him enough?