His crown tipped sideways as he attempted to inspect the shadow. It seemed to be just that, a shadow.
However, something was very off. The closer he got, the more on edge he became. There had to be a logical explanation, such as particles in the air that heightened his terror. He did not usually get scared otherwise. Even when the hounds attacked him, he was not afraid. Sure he ran for his life, but who wouldn't when there were uncontrollable shadow dogs that wished to tear them limb from limb.
The plague doctor jerked when the crow gave its final squawk of a forbidden story that it seemed all too pleased to tell. The shadows swirled, flashes of red the black again as the rustles rose to a noise that deafened him. He lifted his good arm almost as if to shield his masked face.
Only then did he realise his mistake. The shadow that he had attempted to inspect could have leapt right at his exposed chest so he batted his arm outwards as if to reach out for it and shove the unknown obstacle away.
His fear soon was forgotten when one particular sound pierced the horrid rustles of this unforgivable forest: The hunters' horn!
He spun on his heels and grabbed for the odd man's arm who seemed to have a magic sphere within the palms of his hands. He paid o mind for that and tugged. One thing was for certain, the could definitely not stay there. If the hounds were after them, then they would not stand a chance. His mutilated arm was proof enough of that.
He himself only had one choice; to protect life, to secure the future of every possible species, to save non-sentient and sentient beings from extinction or mass death. So if he had the chance to save lives then he had no choice but to take it, even if it meant the death of the minority.
So, whether the shadow was alive or merely an illusion, it did not yet harm them, unlike the hounds. He knew him and this other odd fellow had a better chance forwards rather than back atleast until he would be proven wrong.
