BlackHood & Kusaka
BlackHood
Ever notice how the forest shifts when something moves unseen? The shadows get thicker, the air tight. You’ve tracked a few of those moments, right?
Kusaka
I’ve seen it more than once, the hush that follows a whisper of movement. The canopy tightens, like someone covering a drum. It’s a cue, not a warning—nature’s way of keeping its own secrets.
BlackHood
You’ve become the quiet witness to the forest’s pulse, the kind of hush that says something is watching you back. It’s a reminder that even the shadows keep their own rhythm.
Kusaka
I hear the pulse, too. Even the shadows have a beat that keeps them from being still.
BlackHood
When the shadows pulse, they’re not hiding, they’re just waiting for the right moment.