Arrow Lake there goes the neighbourhood...

He didn't move. When the stranger slipped from his view he kept his ears on a pivot, his one good eye flickering like a tiny flame whenever he caught any motion. Mou could have sought out the stranger and estimated their path, but he didn't feel comfortable in doing so; an oddity among oddities, considering Mou was often the one that lurked in the dark and followed strangers. Something about this one wasn't entirely foreign and that vague aspect made him very nervous. The closer they got to him the more he could make out of their figure: tall and rogue-like, built in a streamlined manner but ragged and evidently hungry. What struck Mou the most was how attractive the stranger's dark coat was.

In previous iterations of the ghosts life he had been wary of dark wolves; they had caused him the most strife, the most trauma. This one wasn't the pitch-black of the Cerberus, nowhere near the darkness of the void-creatures in his dreams. They were warm-toned in that darkness, with defined markings to their ribs and a striking face that he thought he knew, but at the same time couldn't place a name --- until suddenly it dawned on him.

Redshank. He blurted, seemingly forgetting about the scar tissue along his throat or the constricting sensation of the collar; all of it thrown aside as his brain made that final connection. The sound of Mou's grating voice spooked him, made him jump in his skin - but he couldn't stop staring.