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Danny steps carefully through the trees.
His footsteps are silent through practice and he barely has to think while moving. Sneaking looks to come almost naturally to him, but is really a thing he earned through long nights following people.
He’s not following anyone now.
He stops briefly behind a tree and evaluates the nearby environment.
A foggy and damp looking forest. A dark night (or what passes for night in the Entity’s realm). Further ahead a light shines warmly.
He knows from hearsay and firsthand experience that the light isn’t actually warm.
He strains his ears as murmured conversation drifts over. He peeks out from behind the tree. Although he is clad in black, having a brightly colored mask on should make him easy to spot. He knows though, that in lighting like this and with no one on the lookout, he won’t be spotted.
He only gets spotted when he wants to be.
As he watches the people piled around a campfire his thoughts drift.
He used to get a kick out of stuff like this. Watching people. Knowing they didn’t know he was there. He frowns. This place almost takes the fun out of it.
But information always means something. And Danny means to get information.
Getting back on track he eyes the nearest tree. This spot isn’t that great for eavesdropping. He crouches and moves closer to the campfire, moving past the nearby tree and pausing behind one even closer.
The boundary around the campfire keeps people like Danny away. He doesn’t mind. He knows if a person was to be terrified 24/7, the fear would ebb.
He considers trying to get even nearer, but when he considers the people at the campfire closer, he realizes they seem a bit too keyed up for him to want to risk it.
He doesn’t think they even know those like him can come here. And he doesn’t want them to.
He settles in to listen.
Nothing important is being discussed. Then again it’s not like he thought anything important would be. That’s not why he’s here.
Following people and knowing everything about them is really more of a hobby. His favorite times lurking on the survivors is the ones where they play information games. Stuff like 20 questions.
Knowing someone’s favorite color interests him just as much as knowing their greatest fear. Right now there appears to be a discussion going on. He keeps half an ear on the talking happening and half his attention on the interactions.
He likes interactions. They tell a lot about a person. They make it easy to pick out what kind of person is a loner and which are easy to anger. Who likes to talk about themselves and who likes to listen.
One of the survivors starts yelling. Danny’s eyes crinkle in a smile under his mask. Emotions.
Danny does have emotions. Some might say he doesn’t, or that what he does means there’s something wrong with him. If someone told him that to his face he’d probably shrug and agree. He’d probably also gut them, but whatever.
People aren’t perfect and he finds that that’s how he prefers it.
His eyes watch the survivors almost unseeing. He feels so thoughtful tonight. Suddenly some of the survivors stop in the middle of what they’re doing. Danny narrows his eyes at it. He knows what it means.
Soon enough four of the survivors collect some things and start toward the path that leads into the fog. One of them approaches the campfire and tosses something into the flames. They then hurry towards the others and they head into the fog.
For a while after the conversations aren’t as lively.
Danny rises from the dirt. He picks the moment all the survivors are occupied and then sneaks out where he came from. He vanishes into the fog like a shadow in the night.
He feels up to doing something fun. The faint moonlight glints off his blade.