A low growl pierced the fields. Grass swayed with the gentle wind. Baby crabs swum with delight- as though they weren't in mortal peril.
Yet, among all that, one man in black torn armor smoothly strode to the middle of the field, almost as though he'd practiced the very same act a thousand times. He looked up and stared, as though waiting patiently.
But strange, why was this man so… so utterly devoid of life?
Griff couldn't understand; the two heads scanned the surroundings below and it was a bit hard to make out what was going on. Were these things trying to stand up to Griff? But one thing they did understand was the fact that the man below was strong. And they didn't want to risk it. It was the same the last night. After a long while, Griff wanted to have a decent meal and yet, this man had stood there. And not only was this man strong (according to Griff's senses) he could also summon things. One of the things almost shot Griff last night. Almost.
