There are creatures moving out in the darkness, unearthly shapes that seem on the verge of coalescing before they scatter. No amount of blinking will bring them into focus, and waiting only seems to deepen the shadows. Yet the betrayal of his eyes feels secondary to the traitorous pulse in his throat. His heart is beating so close to the surface, a hot point of vulnerability beneath the chill of his skin. It beseeches him to move, to flee. Forward or backward, it does not matter. Better to be in the thick of the unseen things than to remain blind to them.