You are the night-time fear
Their haunting song bids him to come out: it wraps around his flesh and his ghost, the subtlest of marionette pulls. He listens, entranced, enchanted, padding softly through a settlement he just barely remembers, crosses fields which are nowhere near lush enough, and drifts into a bare-bone, skeletal forest coated in white. It wraps around the world like a blanket, swallowing all sound except for the deadly and beautiful song.He is oh so quiet on the snow.
(If he'd had a heart, it would've been pounding—)
He has other systems in place to remind him of mortality, urging him to caution. The shapes through the trees are angular and wrong, jutting shoulders, thin arms, otherworldly melodies rising and falling around them. Aamu shudders ever so slightly: not at the sight of them, but to break their spell. He knows very well what they are, and he knows that he's a fool for being here.
As he slowly creeps forward he comes across a set of familiar tracks. He sees Mabel there, pressed up against a sturdy oak, and he yearns to go to her, to stand behind her, to.. protect her? Don't be a fool.
His faux breath pools white in the air as he slips behind another tree to watch the banshees. The last thing he wants to do is startle Mabel into making a noise by suddenly appearing behind her.
You are the morning when it's clear
AAMU
