Ouroboros Spine spirits

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Their lands peeled back to expose them just as their lips curled to expose daggers. He could feel them upon his skin and they had not even made a move yet. Their eyes all shined into his soul and surely, surely, they could see him for everything he was.

A shame, a waste, an ugly boy bound to become an ugly man. He was not good for much.

The fine lines of his bones under dull fur proved as much. He wondered what they would do with him, why they came to him in such fiery throes. He was still disorientated enough, not of sound mind enough, that he had not realized that it was him in the wrong. That it was because he had come to them, not the other way around.

He shuffled back a few weak steps, crouched lowly with a broken whine in his throat.