The murderer stalks through the wood, inhabiting the body of a much younger, much kinder soul. Manhattan trails behind, fearful the most of this new, twisted mind that haunts her master. She sees dark and abusive darkness within the mind of Knox's ancestor; of Dovev the wicked. Thick feathers drag in the dirt, picking up leaves and shuffling in the low, cold wind. He feels the mind of the dog reaching forth, desperate for her true master, and twists it. He takes her fears and makes them manifest in his innermost thoughts; shows her nothing but what she desired most to hide from.

And so she shirks from the beast; hides from his fearful majesty and longs once more for her master. Knox would not do this, she knows, but he invades her mind and tells her in his wicked tongue what she does not want to hear.

Knox is not here anymore.

And so Dovev rises in a low rear before smashing down before the pup and causing her to skitter away in fear. He strides with excessive pride through the wood and shakes the majestic mane of his ancestor as he cuts a path through to the clearing where Knox's brothers stand, ignorant. They are none the wiser of the turmoil in their brother's mind. And Knox cries out from the depths of the mind but Dovev suppresses the weaker soul. Dovev reigns.

Light falls through the trees and the forest opens up before him. He feels powerful, as if the world is his. And with new life and a new mind to exploit, what stops him? Is it the occasional violent jerk of the soul as Knox and so many other minds resist? No, they are easily surpassed. And the emotion of those around him is easily ignored; it seems Knox himself has done a fine enough job with that, despite differing intentions. So it is nothing that holds him back, he concludes.

And so he walks straight to the center of the clearing; stands beside and above the weak mare, breathes heavily upon her. He is a threat, it comes off of him in waves. He catches the gazes of Knox's youngest brother and shows him a wild look; a vicious one. He eyes the blind unicorn with twisted horns and sneers uncontrollably. Blindness is weakness; strange that his descendant holds such a power.

And then there is Evers, the eldest. "Brother Evers," Dovev says coldly, wickedly, tasting the word on his tongue. Dovev has never had a brother before; only sisters. Three weak and foolish sisters whose flesh had felt soft beneath him and whose blood had spilled so easily. He turns to look down on the mare now; unhesitatingly reaches forward to touch her neck with his soft, young muzzle. Ah, to possess new life- to feel it beside him. He reaches roughly forth with flashing teeth; aims to bite her neck as a warning of what her future holds. For even if she leaves his side, some other stallion will take advantage of her pretty face. Because she is nothing else but that; a pretty face, a warm body.

Manhattan hides in the shadows, silent for fear that a simple whine or recognition of her own presence might set off the demon inside her master's body. She hears his voice, listens to it as it hits the forest air and sounds cold and far off. She fears him.

"Kipp and Casimir- and you, young thing" the murderer continues with eyes that are meant to be a darker blue; eyes of fire. He sounds more confident than Knox ever has; more passionate and more dedicated to darker sides of life. "Tell me, Able," Dovev intones with a slight, recalling from the hunter's memories the word that his older brother had lost his ranking in the Foothills, "Is it your failure that so selfishly gathers us here?"