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Kin had said, so he overhead, that the wilderness on the edge of the east-ward mangroves held secrets. At night, they said, it was foggy, and through the eerie quiet would come cries - many of which startled, and stopped abruptly. Kin who wandered too far into its clutches before dawn were not seen again. They said they would fall, screaming in agony and pleading the Motherfather for mercy, into the flora, and disappear into the Earth. They'd said, perhaps it was a place, forsaken by the Motherfather, where only foolish Kin looking for trouble would go, and would deserve to expire for their mindless trespassing.

It just so happened that Alone in the Dark was very interested in trouble.

He approached at dusk to examine the setting. The land would be treacherous for inobservant kin, he noted critically, for the ground was sharply uneven in depth and firmness, it was littered with several species of toxic plants and a little further on seemed to be rather crocodile-filled moats. Essentially, it was a boring sort of dangerous, and Can't Be was disappointed to realise that the rumours were likely created to keep children away from the area. Nevertheless, he was very thorough in his investigations, and so carefully picked his way through the greenery to rest at a rare patch of safe, bare earth, waiting for night to fall.

His mood lifted in the dark, as the sounds of the swamp took on more sinister tones and the aforepromised fog filled in. He was ready to wait till dawn as usual, but it had not been long before a flash of neon and white entered the very edge of his field of vision. His heartbeat quickened, and he started to turn his head very slowly for fear of scaring whatever it was away.

His bright blue eyes trailed after the figure intently - soon his intense focus brought into sight a figure of a doe, bone-white with an eerie glow snaking up her leg and flashing from her eyes. "Unnatural..." he whispered fiercely to himself, desiring to believe her not of the living. Her swift movement and blithe steps through the treacherous landscape made him wish her spectral, but Can't Be believed himself a sensible buck, and held onto his doubts...

...until she moved straight through a patch of flowers he knew were violently toxic without incident, as if a foal through a bed of clovers. It was a sight that took his breath away: a pretty phantom, somehow corporeal, ghosting her way through a beauteous field of death. 
"Contact." He established his course of action, rising to his hooves and urgently following her path a distance away, carefully dodging the dangers, for he was but a buck. A while more of watching, he stopped and raised his voice, offering an earnest "hello!"

Actual contact! And again his breath caught in his throat, mouth dry from the further confirmation of his suspicions. She looked increasingly otherworldly to him, but her words were too intriguing. Cause of death? Was...was that a warning from the afterlife? "Oh I do," he affirmed eagerly across the brush. "And that's why I'm here. I wasn't expecting anyone else either, but here you are. ...are you -" Can't Be struggled for a way to express this without being highly impolite about an unfortunate incident, and settled upon "- very familiar with these plants?"

He'd grinned at the doe's first query, figuring that his presence - and forwardness - was enough of a response. The second statement, however, threw him - cultivate??? Was it some outer-swamp ritual? Ghost berries, perhaps? Or was it (and his practical heart sank a little in disappointment) that she was...normal? 

Can't Be stared at her somewhat dolefully for a while. Everything about her was strange, from her colours to the fact she was muzzle-deep in toxic fruit. There was only one way to find out: physically.

"My name is Alone in the Dark - but it's a mouthful, so I usually go by Can't Be." And he set off towards her, marching in a rapid gait, his sentiments mirroring his name. His determination had aided him in the day, letting him carefully avoid all hazards - but now it had set him on a very unwise path straight towards the doe...and straight through an entire patch of toxic flowers, thorns and various plants that were patently Not Good for anyone.

After a while of stumbling, hopping, falling and scrambling, he ended up at her hooves, tangled in poisonous vines. He looked her up and down, ascertaining dimensionality, and sighed.

"So you're not dead after all," he groaned, all propriety lost in the rash developing around his thighs. "I, on the other hoof, may be very soon."

Indeed he felt the itch kick in, but he felt a little too wretched to do anything about it, and so watched with dizzy fascination as she dis- and re-appeared. He stretched his neck to nab the flowers as she commanded - were they bitter, or sweet, or tasteless? He couldn't quite tell through the overriding heat from the rash - and proceeded to the root, dutifully discarding it and looked appealingly at the dear songbird as he politely (as polite as he could, lying down) sipped the pristine liquid.

It was remarkable the way his head gradually cleared in the process, his vision coming back into focus. Of course, with less distraction, the itch really kicked in.

"Quite incredible." He managed to moan, rolling up from his side. "I suppose it's good to meet the living when they can save your life." He attempted to resist an undignified rear-wriggle and the desire to rub it against a tree. "May I ask a favour of you, if you might know the shortest route to any clean water at all then? If it's too much of a bother," and here Can't Be looked ashamed, he didn't like to be a bother, "then just point me. I'll do my best not to waste your efforts and stay wholly alive."