Perched and balanced, he watches for sign of attack, clucking his tongue when it's not immediate. Familiar features he can make out now, but the wrong dress, the wrong style of movement. He and Lan Zhan move so in tune that has heart thuds heavily, only disturbed not to be facing the man having lapses into murder lust, but instead another man, visually so close to the same.

"With me yet, my friend? Or does the chase still beckon?"

All of them, hunters in but poor mimicry, driven by one lord of death. Once he would have felt something close to surprise. Once.