The hunter can become the hunted in the blink of an eye. Despite herself, Serah felt a chill run down her spine and her hand unconsciously edged towards her weapon. She kept her fingers from curling around the shaft of her spear and instead ran them through her hair, tugging at the knots as she absorbed the creature's words. She followed it into its den, never straying too far from the entrance, and let her eyes adjust to the encompassing darkness. There was a certain appeal to the niche that the creature had carved out for itself amidst the dangers the Wilderdeep possessed, a sort of haven to lay your head on for a bit of respite, but Serah knew there was no rest to be had in such a place. At least, not for long.

She gave it a nod, and accepted its warning. Spectres. In all her time wandering the north and braving its harsh climates, the magicks of shadows phantoms had never plagued her. Seeing what it was, seeing the Wilderdeep, Serah thanked the Spirits for it.

She spoke towards her companions next, attempting to convey the creature's message in the little common tongue she knew. "Food," she said to Alexandria, the creature's plea mirrored in her own eyes. "Not man or beast," she parroted the creature's words, hoping that they would understand what she was attempting to say. Perhaps they knew more about what spectres were, and they would be able to devise a solution to their current predicament.

A thought came to her and she turned to the creature, the questiom clear in her eyes. [i]'You spoke of a[/i] her. [i]Who is it that you mean?'[/i]