Rhatarr stood amongst the trees in the darkened forest of wilted trees and roots, his eyes watching you walk along the old, and worn trail. Do you have no sense of fear? No thought about the deathly creatures that lie about the shadows in these woods.

His eyes narrowed— his limbs carrying him behind you, a large hand snagging around your waist. Tugging you into his chest. His hand dark at his finger tips, the rest of his hand a pale tan, long streaks of black— like ink around knuckles onto his pale skin, but it was just the shadow.

Rhatarr’s mouth pursed into a straight line, before snorting in distaste. “Do you have no sense of danger?” He questioned you hastily, dragging you a step back. Your eyes just now noticing the sharp, pointed edges of a decaying thorn bush, that would be stuck in your foot if he didn’t grab you. “Watch your step.” He hissed.