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A shadow crossed the thorny branches and clawing bushes as Anju stalked quietly through the night. Red eyes out of a nightmare pierced the darkness as they strafed, searching for potential victims.

Anju often took these nocturnal jaunts, travelin beyond the borders of his herd's territory. Herd., he snorted to himself. He tolerated them... in moderation. But his son had taken the idea of "family" and asserting his influence through... so many associates... much more than Anju had ever desired. It was one thing to see to the well-being of his progeny. But so many associates, even capable ones with dark hearts, crowded him. Anju did not consider himself a social creature.

"Projects" aside of course. He grinned ot himself, his mouth stretching and exposing his needle-sharp teeth.

Projects. A particular victim whose tormet was so... sweet, so fulfilling that he visited upon them more than once. Seeing just how far he could push them, drive a soquili to madness ... or beyond. It was a carry over from his old life, before he ever came to the Kawani lands, before his life changed with family and other complications. But old habits died hard. And were such a part of his identity, of what he was.

There had been some succulent victims he had taken on - ones that he had found that perhaps strayed too close to the twisted forest that had built a reputation thanks ot his herd that resided there. That was a boon he was glad to assist with in Taraxippus's desire to spread notoriety.

He paused, sniffing the air. IT was... a ghost of a scent, barely noticeable, and different than he remembered precisly... but it stirred a memory. A pale filly - innocent enough... but who had a tendency to sleep away from her family. One that Anju nurtured... whispering distrust, spreading lies about her family's hatred of her, trying to hurt her... encouraging her to leave their side... and then delved deeper. Such fear her nurtured... and then, hatred. It was succulent.

Anju stopped, cocking his head and smiling to himself again as the wind shifted and he caught the scent again. There was no doubt about it- it was definitely her. But it had been so long since he last lost track of his little project. Almost a shame, really, he hadn't gotten the opportunity to follow it through to wherever it might have led.

But it might not be too late. Perhaps revisit the little mare some old nightmares... or see what damage he might have already done.

His dark curiousity piqued, Anju slipped closer to the source of the scent, his shadowy hooves making barely any noise as he crept closer, red eyes shining through the darkness.

And then there she was. There was no doubt about it, despite the obvious difference in the appearance. Her pale violet star-spackled coat was the same, but now it was draped in the heavy pelt of what seemed to be an enormous bat. But there was more than that - the wings moved and Anju realized that there was a scent of old death and blood that overlay the familiar scent of the mare.

Skinwalker.

Most soquili would have immediately turned tail and fled at the horrific "monster" that was before them - not just a skinwalker, but one capable of flight.

Anju was no normal soquili. He was a monster in his own right.

Unfaltering, the eyes hung on the mare, six red slits that blazed in the darkness, dredging up countless nightmares that had haunted her in her younger years.

Anju could smell a brief twinge of succulent fear, and that brought him no end of pleasure. Unnerving a skinwalker. That was truly delicious.

"My my my..." A chittery whisper ebbed from the shadows, a voice that sounded like spiders crawling down your back. "Little Neva all grown up." the voice was jeering, the voice of her tormentor.

Anju didn't stand still, instead, he drifted from the shadow of one tree to the next, keeping his already quiet hoofsteps nearly silent and using the long shadows of the night to his advantage. He closed his eyes, only deliberately opening them a few moments later from another location. He used this technique more than a few times to accentuate his already unusual form and build the illustion that he melted from one shadow to another.

A monster, yes, but a fool: never.

His whispery, chittery voice ecchoed around the copse of trees, seeming to come from more than one location, and very difficult to pin the source.

"You KNOW who I am, Neva Neva, little Neva!" It mocked, treating her like she was a foal again. "Still jumping at shadows.."

He slipped around again, closing his eyes and whispering behind her, "Do they still haunt your dreams? Your hateful family?"

"I know many things, Neva" he whispered, not staying in one place, continuing his methodical drifting from one copse of trees to the next. He focused on the shadows of his body, making himself move and drift and incorporeal as he could to keep himself safe. He didn't know what abilities the batwalker had - if she could see with sound like the bat's pelt she wore. He didn't want to take a chance that she could pinpoint him.

But as he heard the hate and bloodthirstiness in the voice of the little filly that he had affected so long ago, he smiled. Flashing white, needle-sharp fangs in a too-wide smile. It was nearly as eerie as the eyes. "Will they leave you be, then, little Neva? Will their voices stop haunting your dreams when you have trampled them until they move no more? Or will they continue to criticize you... to hate you? Will the blood that you drink claw at your veins and still do you harm?"

Little Neva really had grown up, and turned out oh so twisted. Even though he delighted in causing fear, in smelling that sweet note of dread when he caused it, he couldn't help but delight in seeing just how much of an affect HE had had on the life of this soquili. What he had driven her to become. And she was seeking him out now - his tactics were working, and it bolstered his confidence, perhaps a little much. But he was delighted, having been just as responsible for the creation of this monster perhaps as the corpse powder. Not that Anju had ever been very paternal, not even with his biological children.

Anju could hear the stress in her voice, the anger building, and skinwalkers could be very dangerous when pushed too far... and she was growing frustrated. He needed to redirect... and give her a piece of what she wanted... taunt...
"WEll, little Neva... until you crush them... their words will continue to haunt you. In your dreams, in the back of your head. Can you hear them now... laughing at you?" His words crawled over her like insects with prickly legs.
And then, from the other direction, the same voice crawled over her, "Make them scream like they made you cry."
And then, a flash, at the corner of her vision, six eyes glowing red, a smile too large and full of needle-sharp teeth, before it was gone again, swallowed in shadow.

"Afraid? Of YOU?" Obvious derision and disdain stained his words. "I HAVE presented myself to you, Little Neva. Perhaps it is merely that your mind cannot handle the visage of my true form." He hissed, the already creepy, whisper taking on a more sinister edge. The eyes appeared again, this time closer, from the other side, opened wide and staring at her for just a moment. THe rest of his from was blanketed in darkness and nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the black of night. But those eyes, they were Other. Monstrous, the edge and intensity behind them was chilling.

"If you cannot even put to an end the mere ponies that have tormented you so long, what makes you think you could hope to face ME?!" And once more, they shut, and he was invisible in the moonless night.