Blackfeather Woods stage 3: bargaining

Of course he wanted to run, but he did not know where he would run to. His gait was hesitant. If he pursued the stuttering shadowform he might find his way out, or he might find danger. Before he could reach a conclusion to his meandering thoughs Titmouse was ambling along, and then freezing as the stranger stared at him. He saw their eyes - bright at first, then slivers - and the shadows coalesced around them.

There was something familiar here. Something intimately dangerous; but again, his mental faculties being what they are, Titmouse could not fully grasp who it was he had encountered. It was a vague sense of dread that seeped in between them: a fear that had been prevalent but easily swallowed, now clawing its way up his throat. He cried again, that pitiful sound of a confused old man.

Was this only his shadow? He lifted a leg as if to take another step closer, watching if the figure did the same. They didn't, and he cried again, and looked wide-eyed to the trees, the sky, the figure, seeking clarity but so, so afraid. His long and ratty white tail gave a curious flick before tucking tightly against his belly.