A slinking, dark form makes it's way through the shadows of the forest, haunting the woods like a ghost. It was rare for the ghoul to leave the dim safety of his swamp home, dwelling among the countless corpses that littered the dank pools of water and lay buried under thick, stinking muck. The pale filtered light there made everything indistinct, all soft edges and blurred outlines until it could make one crazy, were they not used to it. Here, though, the fierce sun glared into his dark eyes, making him blind and clumsy. He wouldn't have ventured out, were it not for the angel and his demon bird. The bird hadn't been bad, simply sitting quietly and emitting the occasional hiss, but the painted winged monster had cut through his security, dragged him out of his hiding spot and asked questions. Long, slithering tail waves behind him in agitation, the imitation of some great snake moving restlessly through the underbrush.
A comforting scent hits his black muzzle, and he draws it in eagerly, inhaling deeply to identify this particular flavor. Fox, he decides, not dead for too long, only about a week or so. Legs are lifted high in an excited prance, the soothing odor of death drawing him forward at a trot. His swamp friends are nice, but mostly made up of horses. He wanted something different, like his beloved deer Mira. The reddish canine would make a nice addition, and maybe he could find something else while he was out here. But what else did he want? Rabbit? Or a raccoon, they were always fun. Yes, he'd have to find a raccoon after picking up the fox, and then he could take them home and they could all be friends!
Delight turns quickly to confusion as he comes to the odd jumble of foresty stuff. How was he supposed to get in there? Could he push his way through it? His simple mind doesn't think to look for an opening on the other side of the massive pile, seeing only that his way to his 'friend' is blocked. Experimentally, he probes the mess with his sharp horn, pushing through small chinks that enlarge slightly as twigs and vines are displaced. Inspired, he withdraws, only to whirl around and kick out. He could make this annoying thing fall down! Then he would just have to paw through the debris until he found his fox! A childish smile appears on his ghastly features at the thought, and he redoubles his effort, determined to bring the whole pile crashing down.
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