Graveshade had no idea what had happened to him. His limited intelligence was stretched to the limit.  He did not know were he was. He knew that he was not in the swamp. He knew he was not in the forest.  This was a strange place with hard dirt and large huts.  And it was filled with incredible numbers of food.  The good kind.  They wore strange clothing, but the blood was the same.  The blood in their veins sang out to him.  In his limited time here, he had already hunted five times.  The food here didn't even fight back.  The last time one of them tried to save his herd mate.  He was able to throw a rock very very hard.  It went right through his arm.  It hurt for a bit, but then the hurt went away. Silly food.

His skin was a pale grey green colour.  He was covered in boils and sores that oozed grey pus.  His muscles looked like lumpy taffy that had been pulled over his knobby skelton.  His eyelid had receeded.  This made im look both surprised and insane.  What remained of his hair was in whisps around the hairline.  The top of his head was bare and had a blue tone to it. His lips were ragged and torn.  They reveilled a set off teeth similar to those of a shark.  The teeth were triangular with serated edges and jutted out at odd angles.  Behind the first row was a second row ready to replace the first.

Graveshade had managed to steal a pair of pants and a shirt from one of his victims. All of the clothing was torn and covered with blood, but it provided a bit of protection from the cold. Now he was looking for a coat.