Moths. Moths were what had drawn his glassy eyes westward. It wasn't the sound of a snapping twig, or the flutter of birds fleeing from some unseen threat. He'd nothing to fear from those sounds, those sights. Graz was the beast of the forest, the thing man and monster alike feared, and rightfully so. But the moths? They were calm, omens of death in and of themselves. Whatever made them float so gracefully from their home was surely something of interest to the hulking creature.

And there was this smell. Not that of a deer or wolf. No, it was different. Human. He couldn't recall the last time he'd smelled even the faintest hint of such a being, let alone hear one close enough to scatter the murder of crows that was accustomed to most of the wildlife in the tree packed area. The smell gave him pause. On one hand, the human could be a threat. On the other, he could simply ignore it, let them run past and hunt their prized elk or whatever the foolish thing ventured so far from the safety of the little town for.

But curiosity is a fickle thing, and Graz found his feet making his choice for him. Just a quick peek over into the clearing to sate his interest, then he'd leave them to their fate and go back to the comfort of his own home. Or maybe he'd chop some wood or hunt or-

Oh.

A new smell hits his nose. Metallic and sharp, and suddenly the presence of the moths feels less random.