we scream our very souls free

The shadow child pays little attention to the arbitrary boundaries that mark one land from another. They are meaningless to Haunt, an invisible rule created by adults to impose control on a world they so clearly had so little control over. The shadow would not try to understand it, too caught up in other more amusing foibles. Childish foibles, it’s true. But then, the odd little creature is still a child after all, even if it is one that confuses others.

There is one other Haunt finds intriguing however. A sibling and yet not-sibling. The shadow doesn’t question it, because it simply is, but perhaps others would find their relationship strange. Still, Father seemed to like the boy’s mother a great deal. While that hardly seems significant to Haunt, it had brought Misfit to the shadow. And Haunt rather likes Misfit, even if Bonus Mother eyes them a little strangely sometimes.

Haunt Haunt is the one I want!

The boy-girl hums along with the sing-song tune, head dipping in time to the warbling notes. Though Misfit is not in the child’s sight yet, Haunt can hear him quite clearly. Shadows are endless, everywhere, pervasive, and the little creature made of those very shadows has been rapidly discovering just how extensive they are. Just how different they make it from others. Haunt rather enjoys it, but it would be impossible for the child not to know of it’s many differences.

With a giggle, Haunt flits through the shadows, a skill that comes as easily as breath to anyone else. Misfit would no doubt hear Haunt coming, the childish giggles a dead giveaway despite the utter silence in each breath of movement and alarming lack of scent. But Haunt is made for stealth, and it is easy to steal up on the blue and grey colt, to snake out a nose and tug playfully on a tufty little tail before disappearing back into the shadows from whence the childish creature had been borne.

we scream our very souls free

A wild giggle escapes impossibly dark lips as the little shadow creature embraces the darkness of the trees. Yellow eyes wide with delight, Haunt leads the blue and gray colt on a merry chase, leaving just enough breadcrumbs to follow deeper into the woods. Had they not known each other so well, it might have been enough to give anyone pause, following an impossible, scentless nightmare into the depths of the woods. But they do know each other, and Haunt knows nothing of dark and eerie things, truth be told. No, Haunt is only an odd child who wishes to play.

Another round of breathless giggles escapes the impossible child as Misfit finally locates its location, bounding forward to scrape youthful teeth across a pitch-dark shoulder. Leaping forward, Haunt charges headlong into the tussle Misfit had instigated, overly-long legs akimbo as the spritely youth swings them around the blue-tinged boys shoulders, teeth tugging, perhaps a little too sharply (an accident, to be sure, but the little creature doesn’t know his own strengths yet).

Haunt pulls them both over with another bubble of laughter, the shadows reaching, swallowing, cushioning their landing. Until they are little more than a tangle of thin, childish bodies and too long limbs. Haunt squirms until Misfit is pinned gently to the leaf-litter. Nosing the gray of his neck, Haunt laves almost curiously at the downy foal-fur, rather enjoying the rasp of tongue against skin. The child could not quite say why, but it’s comforting and familiar. Reminding it of the day they’d first met and Misfit had been shocked by such an uncommon greeting.

we scream our very souls free

It’s easy and comfortable, this hushed, private moment - simply two old friends enjoying each other’s company. Even Haunt, who so rarely feels discomfited in the presence of others, recognizes the unique qualities in their friendship. In what has grown between in them in such a short amount of time. The shadow child rather likes it. Even rather hopes this could be forever, in that childish way so many youth are prone to.

The gray fur grows damp beneath Haunt’s exploring tongue, and curiously the child begins to nibble gently with too-sharp teeth, an exploratory grooming. Misfit seems uninclined to protest, leaving Haunt free to his bold and curious touch. Until blunt, new teeth find the delicate tip of one shadowy ear, distracting the creature from it’s idle pursuit.

With a contented little sigh, Haunt shifts against Misfit, curling in close until they are pressed snuggly and warmly together. That pitch-dark nose falls to a gray shoulder, forward to a scrawny, youthful throat. Lipping idly at the whirled fur there, nibbled ear wiggling rather humorously, Haunt settles into the moment quite happily. Content to simply be, to merely exist, pressed against Misfit.

The boy’s words distract the shadowy child however, causing it’s small, dark head to lift, yellow eyes fixing on the blue-tinged boy. A grin stretches dark lips, eyes gleaming rather proudly in the cool shade of the small forest. “You are my favorite Misfit,” Haunt replies instantly, voice a bright trill in the quiet dark. “My only Misfit.”

The child’s features, nearly indiscernible, appear to consider the question posed with all due seriousness. As though their activities for the day are the most important thing in the world. In truth, for two rambunctious children, perhaps it is. Finally, after what amounts to barely more than a few moments contemplation, Haunt suggests, “Let’s go somewhere! Daddy showed me how to go everywhere!”

we scream our very souls free

Haunt hums, the vibrations low and delighted, as Misfit noses at the dark curl of mane against an equally dark neck. The little shadow enjoys the touch, so used to being one of many that it seems far more odd to be alone than to be pressed against someone so familiar and warm. This is the comfort Haunt seeks, the home the little creature knows.

A mischievous grin spreads across Haunt’s lips as Misfit leans back, peering at the shadow with uncertain eyes as he asks if they would go with the shadows. Bright yellow eyes gleam in the dim light of the forest, eerily delighted by the thought of whisking away through the darkest recesses of Beqanna. Of existence. And without his mother here to whisper sensible discouragement in the blue and gray colt’s ear, he readily agrees to Haunt’s rather wild suggestion.

With a giggle, the shadow child scrambles to spindly legs, youthful features alight with (faintly devilish) joy. “Through the shadows,” Haunt whispers conspiratorially into Misfits ear, before another delighted giggle escapes impossibly black lips. Oh, but how Haunt loves this! There is something so terribly exciting in stepping through the shadows and finding oneself in another place entirely.

“Just walk,” Haunt advises, that grin pasted to delighted features, displaying small, pointed teeth that might be sinister were it not for the clear brightness of that dark face. Pushing shoulder to shoulder, Haunt boldly encourages Misfit forward, reaching into the shadows as Dad had taught, allowing them to swallow the pair whole.