Third Person~
In the darkness of the wood, a deer walked through the bracken, her long legs gentle, her dainty little hooves picking through the tall cool grass as the moon's light danced across the foliage. Her large ears flickering back and forth, picking up even the slightest sound. Even the soft hum of the crickets seemed like a thunderous echo in the doe's ear.
But suddenly, the crickets' song stopped, thus, the doe froze, her white-tipped tail flicking up. The sound of a low growl filled the darkness. The doe flinched, but before she could even tear off, she was tackled to the ground by a huge black mass.
It tore into the doe, blood soaking the grass and it's jaws. This . . . thing looked like a Loboan, but . . . not a Loboan. It moved about on all fours, and it's black coat was a bloody matted packed mass. His hands and feet were scraped up from constant scrambling over rocks and stones. The only clothing was a dirty loincloth.
It ate the deer in a savage manner, scars littering up and down his black and arms, teeth and fangs were yellow and rotting. He ripped the deer apart and swallowed it up, and growled, saliva and blood running from jagged jaws. This deformed Loboan lifted it's large head and sniffed the air, catching the scent of something pure:
Well-groomed fur, clean white fangs. A sadistic smile fell upon it's face as he cackled in the darkness,
"Fresh Loboan." He rasped out in a strained voice, "Fresh Loboan." he then turned in the direction of the scent and followed it, laughing in the dark.
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