Things were changing and it was coming his way. The stygian beast could feel it in his gut. Like an ominous, black cloud rising in the distance he could feel the winds shifting and his mind teetered on the cusp of something new.

His body had healed from the altercation from weeks ago, the scabs now itching and pulling tight at his skin. He moved unhindered through the driest parts of the moorland with an unknown intention set in his usually deadpan stare. Instinct tells him that someone is here for him and yet he does not know who or where they are. But perhaps they had come here just like he had - by chance. Even so, the black-blooded monster finds himself wanting of their presence. For what, exactly, no one will yet know.

The morning is early, far too early for light to penetrate the thickened boughs of the swamp, and a pale, gloomy wash of blue-gray paints over the scenery. His dark figure stalks slowly and methodically through the undergrowth as he makes his way to the westernmost area. He does not make it easy for the others to find him by waiting at the edge, and instead stays near to the most dangerous parts of the wetland. If they were to truly be of notable character then they would make it through with no problem. He is the god who inhabits this forsaken place and all who fail to survive it become his.

Habitually, he finds a large cypress that provides ample shade and lays beneath it for the time being. Unnerving amethyst eyes survey the land before him with dark ears attuned to the rhythm of the swamp as creatures begin to buzz in the onset of early light. His back rests gently against the rough trunk of the century-old tree that covers him. In the rainy months he knows that this spot will be underwater and so he uses it while he still can.

After a few moments pass he feels it necessary to send out a call to those whom he assumes have come to this world. His handsomely sculpted head shifts upward as a deep howl resonates for only a short time. It is a welcoming for those like him and a warning for those who are not. If he is incorrect in his assumption of these forlorn spirits being brought to the forest then he will resume his days alone and without a second thought. But something tells him that he is not wrong.