Their blades cut through the hair with the metallic shiver of thousands of strands sliced through at once, hanks of it falling to the ground -- where they writhed as if alive, clutching at anything close by until they found the body of darkness again and melded back into the shape. The shape: was shifting, coalescing from the indefinable cast shadows into something concrete.

It was almost a body, but grotesque and broken, back wrenched into an arc and arms groping upward as the source of the hair enveloping Al. The guttural croak sounded and grew louder until it was nearly deafening, and still the hair pulled at him, bringing him closer and closer to the warped body behind him.