Padding through the trees was a fox unlike any other. Its black fur made it more shadow than animal, and in its wake it trailed eight tails, though it also appeared as if it was only one. The night made it difficult to discern, or perhaps it didn't want to be discerned. It followed the sound of the unearthly moans, ears pricked with curiosity.
A boy was the last thing the fox had expected to find in the middle of a darkened wood. It sat and watched for a moment, sniffing the air for any scent that might explain the madness that gripped the figure but there was only the stale scent of fear and sweat. The fox considered feeding, but there the strangeness of the scene put such thoughts from its mind.
"You'll summon your death if you continue," Said the fox, though he wasn't sure the human would even hear him through the writhing psychosis, "Who knows what's out here hunting for something easy to devour."