Something stirred in the vicinity. It was a sensation rather than a sound, a flavor upon the wind and a slight churn in the gut; the touch of a sixth sense developed after the loss of a more vital one. He didn't stop and the lilting hum neither faded nor increased, yet still the posture of the ghoul changed as he danced through the woods. The muscles of that massive neck swelled as he tucked the cheek closer to his inky chest, lowering the trident of spears, the crown of rough black diamond so that it preceded his swarthy corpse by several feet. The step of the solid hooves grew even softer, if such a thing was possible, each stride measured and collected as he inhaled slowly....

H-h-hello sir?

The voice was trembling and soft, young and innocent; it was with massive effort the towering stallion managed to reign in the urge to lash out with those charcoal daggers, slice the intruder and spill metallic life-force onto the ground. He didn't do it. Instead a large hoof slammed down into the ground with force as he stopped, enough to shatter the thin crust and send clumps, shards and powder of ice into the air. The motion as he turned his head towards the fawn was much too slow, much too stiff - and despite the lids closing eternally over sunken hollows that offered an expression of peace to his features, the flightless crow gave off an imposing feeling of dislike as he addressed the girl.

"What?" he asked brusquely, tone harsh but with a soft so deep, so low, like rich chocolate or silk whispering over razor-sharp steel that it might send shudders across ones skin. There was no mistaking his irritation, yet the simple fact that he had stumbled upon a creature of intelligence after weeks alone in the wilderness was enough to let him linger in place, audits pricked and attention focused on the feeble flame.

Perhaps that was a mistake. He was not unaccustomed to making them. Rarely does a physically impaired person walk through life unscathed, and many were the blows, bodily and otherwise, that the scapegoat and mocked bird had been forced to endure. Only time would tell whether not avoiding the snake that crawled up to him on silent hooves would have been for the better, whether her poison could - and should - have been avoided. Alas, by the time she parted those toxic lips and let out the lazy drawl it was already too late.

It is not safe for the dead because of the undead. I can offer an eye-less necromancer shelter, but a little girl will have to prove her worth.

Much like a giant pendulum the head of the blinded demon of the North swung, turning from girl to woman, from foal to mare without changing expression. If anything, the appearance of yet another stranger without the courtesy of announcing their presence before standing in his face only fed fuel to his fire, resulting in a dangerous rise of a rear leg - a warning, though not spoken aloud, to keep a proper distance.

"Says who?" he retorted shortly, annoyed yet against his will intrigued by her half-spoken warning. A sharp snort signed the resignation of a short and intense inner struggle, over whether to leave or to stay and listen to that velvet voice - the long, slender tail snapped testily against well-honed flanks as he settled into place, impatient yet too wise from damage to run headlong into something just because a stranger said he shouldn't.

He might be young, but that didn't mean he had to be foolish.