Arrow Lake there goes the neighbourhood...

He came upon him in mere moments, slinking out of the undergrowth to where the pale spectre stood. Up close, he could see now the darker mask the other held, the myriad of scars that criss-crossed his body, and the strange fixture around his throat that made his fur stand on end. They both stood, staring, two narrowed eyes boring into his single one that seemed to glow in the darkness. He stayed motionless, too apprehensive and confused to make any moves, until...

Redshank. The voice, coarse and quiet though it were, sparked a flicker of a recognition in his brain, and they both started almost in unison. How did the scarred man know his name was a question that briefly flit through the forefront of his thoughts, before it was just as quickly answered by a memory. Running through a black forest, blood falling into his eyes, a shrieking ghost with a half-smile, a ragged voice calling his name. The same one he heard now.

It couldn't be.

Redshank took half a step back, mouth slightly agape as he stared, eyes tracing the conspicuous streak of orange that marked the man's sides. If it weren't for that, and the name he rasped, he might have simply turned and walked away, thinking him a hunger-induced hallucination; some sort of ghost. But no, he was real, and he knew him. "Who are you?" Redshank uttered, feeling a growl make its way up his throat. He asked, though he already knew the answer.