Sleepy Fox Hollow As the crow flies.

He had tried not to think of the woods too much. It was difficult because of the impossibility of it. Reminding himself not to think of something required him to first consider that something, which meant the abandoned home was not really as far from his mind as he'd have wanted. Maybe he didn't want it. Forgetting about all he had survived, and all he had perpetrated in trying to survive, was outside of his control. He stared at the dark smudge until the whipping wind made his eyes glaze. He sank back upon the path and began to orient himself for the trip back down the hillside.

Mou did not get far before he was intercepted. First it was the voice - not sharp, but exacting. Barbed with the smallest thorns of humor. The woman he recognized partway through her commentary and he had half a mind to leave her there, unwilling to submit himself to her. Protective of what little remained of his own self-worth, maybe. She sounded like she was in good spirits though, which was better than their previous interaction. He watched her carefully.

Thought maybe you were a vampire or some shit. She explained with vulgar clarity. Not far from the truth, he mused.

It was hard to tell what she was after. A rise out of him? He didn't have the spirit. Another fight? Pointless; she carried herself with an easy pride and wasn't being belligerent about it this time, so his primal side was satisfied. Friendship was further from Mou's mind than anything and so he didn't even consider she was after that, leading him to -- nothingness. He had no idea why she would call out to him.

He slunk towards the cast shadow of an oak with his attention (mostly) focused upon her, just in case this was a trick. Vampire? He croaked - quite literally - and then shut his mouth when the awkward squawk of his gnarly voice met his own ears. His returned voice was a blessing, he thought, but did he have to sound like that?