Alastor said nothing, focusing instead on racing forward. His shadow took on the shape of a stag as well, mirroring him so that he didn't need to worry about missing a board as he followed the cart tracks back to where they'd come from. He could solidify his shadow just enough to act as temporary ground where their hooves met.

He ran as if the hounds that had torn him to shreds in life were hot on his heels. He could still hear their howls in his ears. He'd been a helpless human then. He was prey once more but at least he had more of a chance.