Senka wasn't incorrect.
Trailing her from the shadows, Kujin had been watching her for a while now, gauging her strengths and weaknesses as best as he could from observing how she moved. She seemed nervous, skittish from how she kept looking around her. She knew she was being followed but hadn't yet seen him. It reminded him of a scared little animal separated from the rest of its herd that knew the predators were out there, waiting for it to come just a little closer, right within pouncing range.
Eugh. Kujin made a face at his own analogy, his humanity recoiling in horror at the thought--even as that growing feral side of him liked it. Right now, though, morality didn't matter. The simple fact was that he needed to feed and only human blood could sustain him. Already his skin was turning thin and the cravings were growing more intense. It wouldn't be much longer before he either lost control of all rationality.
Or turned into a flesh-clothed skeleton.
He trailed her until they were in a more desolate area, one in which he could see no other people and where the huts were spread out. A good area in case she screamed, because it would give him time to bolt if anyone came to her rescue. Giving the area one last, cautious scan, he finally stepped out from the cover of the foliage.
His appearance had always been his greatest weapon. He looked like little more than a half-starved sixteen-year-old.
"Hello?" he called ahead to her. "Miss? Do you need some help? You really shouldn't be walking around here this time of night; there's been some trouble."
