Sezel felt a cold, sharp-edged premonition of imminent danger. He gulped hard, but it was not his physical body so it didn't matter much.
The puppet resumed its investigation and slipped through the crumbling doorway of the hut, its form melting into the deep, oppressive shadows just inside the entrance.
Everything was silent, save for the soft, rustling whisper of the wind moving through the tall, dry grass outside. After a moment, a new sound joined the chorus of the wind, and after not much time a dark figure, walking on four legs entered through the door, slowly as if it was a tiger approaching a gazelle for prey.
SLASH!
The puppet moved with a speed that was a blur even to Sezel's split perception. The moment the other beast's head passed the threshold, the Flesh Reaper's scythe descended in a smooth arc, slicing through the beast's neck with precision. The creature didn't even have time to react, to let out a final, dying cry.
