Through the darkness, the giant went. He was nearly lost within the shadows of the forest, apart from the sun bleached skull he wore upon his own. He moved with no concern for silence. Subconsciously he monitored the terra beneath cloven hooves, feeling for any sudden changes in turf, and auds constantly flicked and turned on his poll, listening for anything he would hold any concern for. The brute didn't need vision to see. His world was a collection of sounds and scents and touch, a map of sensations. He did not require vision to traverse the forest, and his empty sockets hidden beneath his mask bore no weakness for him. 

Soon he noticed an abrupt change as his legs were no longer brushed with rough branches of low lying plants, and the air seemed to open (sounds seemed clearer here, as the croons of a nearby owl no longer seemed muffled by the dense flora and trees around him). In the the distance, the howls and cries of hunting wolves provided a haunting melody. He stopped within the meadow, no knowledge of the glowing fireflies that danced from his steps, or of the waxing moon that peaked in the glittering sky above him. Even if he had been able to see what sprawled around him, he would not be bothered to enjoy something as frivolous as stars and beauty of an unforgiving world. He could appreciate, however, the break in the sweltering Tallsun heat that night provided. He paused in the center of the meadow, nostrils flared and dragging in the rich scents of the soil, the trees, the honeysuckle. 

He turned his neck, thick neck bowing as he touched his nose to his tail. The softness of his maw met the smooth shell of the egg nestled within the safety and softness of his hair. The brute was far from delicate. Crafted from darkness, the cold and cunning creature that he had become was not an ideal caregiver for something as fragile as an egg. But something within the matte shell called to him, urged him to provide it with safety and he would be rewarded. He snorted, a scowl crossing his face as he pulled away from it. 

Ears flicked easternly, and his head turned to follow. A pained and pathetic screeching filled the hollows of his ears. Breaking into an easy trot, the stallion left the sanctuary of the meadow and continued back into the thicket. The hoarse whimpers altered his direction, sides brushing against massive trunks as he wound through the timber. Ears pivoted and flicked, discerning easily the actual sounds versus the echoes that bounced off of the trees. He slowed to a walk as the gurgling whines confirmed the injured creature was before him. The aroma of blood and death stuck to the velvet rimming his nostrils. 

Morir's head dropped low, seeking to get a good scent. Snapping jaws gave stern notice to avoid the head of the creature. The black brute knew the smell, as he had found it clinging to the dead that had followed the howls and barks of hunting pack. This creature held no danger. It was alone, and death was close. The wolf lay on its side, golden eyes wide with terror. Jaws were stretched agape, lined with shining white teeth, blood bubbling and oozing from its throat. Ragged breaths were pulled in through a crushed windpipe, as a strong kick from a hunted stag had met its aim. An occasional whine escaped the dying animal. No strength was left in its bones. No energy remained to bring the creature back onto its paws, no spirit remained to urge the creature to pursue its pack. They had abandoned him here. He was of no use. A crippled beast, left to wait for the end. 

The giant pulled away, face turned to the fallen hunter. "What a beautiful night for it to end," he mused, voice deep and even. He was answered by a gurgling growl from an unknowing beast. "Though, I'm sure it is difficult for you to agree. It's a shame you must be alone, forsaken and abandoned by those like you." A frown touched upon his lips, and an unknown sensation flickered briefly in his chest. (Was it understanding? Pity? A painful memory?) "Unfortunately, no reaper is here, only me." 

The stallion stepped forward, dragging the longest of his horns down the rib cage of the wolf. The wild creature's breaths were shallower now, lungs drowning in the blood that didn't pool around it's gaping mouth. He counted each rib, feeling them with some difficulty beneath tight muscle. He found his spot, horn pressing against the pelted beast. "We are similar, you and I," he whispered.  "Only difference is, no one has ever shown me mercy." Long skewer was thrust between narrow ribs, sharp point finding a struggling heart. With that, it was over.

The giant turned away, and into the shadows he disappeared, slipping back into the arms of the waiting night.

""
OOC// He's back! He'll probably end up going Outcast, but that doesn't mean we can't have some good old fashioned Threshold fun!

Before the night could swallow him, a voice rang out. The giant didn't pause, long steps drawing him deeper into the recesses of the forest. The tiny voice illicited nothing but the slightest flick of an ear, before it continued to pivot and capture noises useful to the brute. He was not some mongrel to be called, especially not to be summoned or ordered by a voice barely aged enough to belong to one worth listening to. The bell of a voice went on to accuse him of killing the wolf, as if he had done so in spite or cruelty. Many an accusation had been made upon him, and this one didn't bother him in the slightest.

The sound of an unsteady gait pursuing him into the forest spurred an annoyance deep in his breast. Brows furrowed over unseeing pits, and ears twisted back as his sculpted face hardened in expression beneath his mask. Suddenly, and without provocation, the intruder fired a shot at him. His ear caught the sound of something whistling through the air. (It was not slight and keen like the cutting of an arrow, nor clumsy and low like a thrown stone.) Head twisted suddenly, the remainder of the light casting a sickly pallid glow onto the wraith. Nostrils flared in anger, and his lip curled. His body twisted as he turned to face the girl, the dying light of her magic casting the softest white over his haunted form.

Slow steps brought the giant close to the babe. A monstrous raven sent to rip the wings off of the gentle dove. "You know not what you do. I'm surprised anyone would chase after one who they accuse of killing something innocent, something undeserving. What do you know of these things?" His voice was even, baratone, and did not display any indication of his agitation. He could not see the size of the girl, but her steps were light, and voice still shrill. He could assume she was of young age, or at least small in stature. Did she not know of the evils that could befall the small and weak in a place like this?

"Don't you know that monsters live here, child? Great heathen creatures, ones who will snatch you away from your parents' watchful eyes. Devils and demons alike who will drag you to a place that would leave you wishing for hell." (Perhaps that was a little much.) The wraith had no desire to call back his words. He was dangerous, perhaps, but by no means cruel. This purity wished to confront him, disturb his travels, reprimand him like a misbehaved child. The giant would have none of that.

"You seek me out, no knowledge of what may be lurking within the next shadow. You accuse me of killing a lowly wolf. Let me tell you this, the beast you came upon was dead long before I arrived. Just because a heart beats, does not mean that it's owner lives. I gave the hunter a death more honorable than drowning in his own blood. But if you believe that is a more suitable way to leave this life, then perhaps you are the monster."

Stepping closer, he loomed over the ethereal fae. Antlered crown, split by diamond swords, cast a sharp and tined shadow, and he was silverlined with the moon at his back. A monster whose shadow swallowed the moon. "I will dare to walk away if I please. Who do you think you are?"

Though he detested the thought of humoring the girl by staying, the allure of preying on her doubts planted him in his spot.

""