“It’s pathing towards us,” Moradin whispered with slight frustration. He turned to look at Ash, the man’s eyes full of a sharp severity. “Don’t move. Don't make a sound,” he instructed, “and, no matter what you see, remember: It. Can't. See. You.”

Ash nodded in response, confused.

Moradin gave Ash a half-hearted reassuring smile, before turning back to the direction he was looking.

Worry started to bubble up inside Ash. He still couldn't see or hear anything in the distance, so he decided to try a third option. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his senses.

His field of perception was nowhere close to Moradin’s, but he could still scan a decent distance. He felt about for any sign of life, any hint of an aura. But there was nothing. Not even a mouse for a quarter mile.

Alarm bells began ringing in his head. This felt wrong.

A loud snap of a branch in the distance wrenched his eyes open. He looked in the direction it came from. Movement. Something big: its color blending into the trees, making it difficult to track, as it meandered in their direction. The density of the woodland made it hard to make out any discernible features at this distance.

At around two hundred feet away, the thing finally moved into a patch of trees far enough apart that the back half of it was unobstructed.

A deer, maybe? Ash guessed, but quickly discarded the idea. Its body was similar, but far too tall; its four hoofed legs unnaturally long, and strangely thin, like jointed stilts. They moved awkwardly as it eased forward, past the tree it stood behind, revealing the rest of it.

Ash grew pale.

A head attached to a reedy neck stretched out from behind the tree, stiff and serpentine. Plastered onto it was the face of a crying woman, its features grotesque and exaggerated. Thin black hair framed the still expression stretched onto the creature's face.

Its body stilled for a moment, its stiff serpentine neck swimming in the air searchingly, until, with a sudden jerk of motion, its eyes, large and bulbous, locked onto Ash.

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His instincts took over and forced his body to move: to run.

Moradin’s swift hand on his shoulder held him in place like a vice, grounding him. He tried to compose himself.

It can’t see you. Remember. It. Can't. See. You. Moradin’s words repeated in his mind.

The thing started to lumber in their direction again, eyes still locked on Ash.

One hundred and fifty feet.

It can’t see you.

One hundred.

It. Can't. See. You.

It wove through the trees, slow and steady, its gaze never leaving him. The neck twisted at odd angles in order to stabilize its head in place, giving the appearance that it floated in a perfectly straight line towards him.

He couldn’t take his eyes off it.

Fifty feet.

It can’t see you.

Twenty-five feet.

He held his breath, heart beating like a drum in his ears.

Ten.

It! Can't! See! You! He screamed internally.

It stopped.

Besides its hooves lightly pressing into the snow, the creature was completely quiet. If Ash closed his eyes, he wouldn’t even know it was there. It had no aura; it made no sound. But he couldn’t stop looking. He had to keep his eyes on it. He had to know where it was.

The head started to reach closer to him, the neck stretching unnervingly far.

Five.

It can’t see you. Remember, it can't see you. It can’t see you. It can’t see you, he repeated.

One.

Time passed like a falling feather. Everything in his body, everything in his mind screamed. To run. To fight. To do something. But Moradin’s heavy grip kept him still.

It was so close, but he couldn't even feel it. All his other senses told him there was nothing there, but his eyes said the opposite.

It can't see you.

Ash heard a step.

It can't see you.

Then another.

The nightmarish visage was still locked onto him, less than a foot away, until, suddenly, it wasn't.

Ash watched as the head and neck slowly returned to float above the creature once again. It continued at its meandering gait towards the direction they came from, its unnatural form eventually disappearing into the dense obscurity of the Old Wood.