“Look how he runs, the coward! See how he slinks away from us like an omega?”
“Oh poor beastie! No legs to stand on, no balls to speak of.”

Their cackles haunted him as he moved away, but pride and courage etched themselves strongly on his features and he raised his head and tail, his steps growing more confident. He knew the vapors sensed weakness, and that was when they moved in for their version of a feast. Kneph's hackles raised at the thought, his skin crawling, but still he did not look back, did not give them the satisfaction of knowing that they had trumped him. How had such foolish thoughts wormed their way into his heart? How could he have allowed himself to believe that he could outrun them, could hide from them? It had been a childish error, and he felt like an adventurous pup being returned to the den by a weary mother after a forbidden foray. Around him the mist continued to swirl and curdle, the hot air rising from the marsh like a sodden blanket, stifling the lungs of the wanderer so that breathing became difficult for him. He focused on the motion, like an artist perfecting his technique, and allowed his mind to empty of all other things. So out of touch with reality was he in fact, that he did not notice the stranger until she was almost upon him. The first sound to reach his ears was the sucking noise that mud makes when it grasps at a passing paw, followed closely by the unknown stench of another. Quick as a dime, the male spun on his haunches, ready to greet the one that dogged him in whatever language they were most familiar with, be it tooth, claw or silence.

To his surprise, his glowing orbs beheld a crude-looking female, whose appearance reminded him of exactly the opposite. She was mostly raven-robed in hue, with splashes of white and a russet marking bathing her back. She was roughly the same height as he, now that he had drawn himself to his full stature, and her musculature was similar too, the signature of a warrior. He regarded her quietly as she looked him over, one paw still raised as though she were still undecided in her approach, although her pebbly voice was clear and confident. It would no doubt take her some time to realize he was a mute and could not reply to her question, even if he had wanted to, for he was a weary traveler. It struck him as odd that one would approach him, unless an undisclosed benefit was on the cards for them. Not that he had much to offer.

Suddenly, a motion at the corner of his vision diverted his attention from the wolfess, and he noted that the ghosts drifted closer, grinning evilly at him from their lofty perches. One settled to his right, the other to his left, and a third appeared to hover distractingly over the head of his companion. Kneph gave a silent snarl, but did not waste energy snapping at the specters, for trial had already proved it a useless venture. Teeth, after all, were made to pierce flesh and bone and peel hide and tendon from a carcass, not to rip at air and water. The sightless eyes watched him eerily from all sides.

“Look at the poor mutie!”
“Shall we help him? Shall we give him his tongue back? Oh what a delight, how benevolent are we, to give him gifts and expect naught in return!”
“What a pretty young thing, shall we show her what we do to pretty young things?”

The warrior silently cursed them all, and struggled not to react, for the slightest movement from him could bring them swirling down to bury him beneath their own wills and ways. It was a frightening experience, and one he did not wish to encourage. He hoped the ess would say something useful, to distract him from the ones that never left, however unlikely it seemed that she would, for she appeared as stoic and silent as he, a definite combination for disaster.