Octavian picked up the tremble of his hand immediately and flinched back, in his mind the human was deciding when to make a move. Whenever that little twitch turned to a full movement he would dash away into the forest in hopes of minimal damage. Instead, he watched the other remain still, besides his hands. When his lips parted he was shocked to hear the other speak to him, let alone warn him to leave. He knew he should have just left right then and there, but the fact he was speaking instead of hurting him... it confused him.<br/><br/>"What makes it unsafe is you," He said softly, rising to his feet slowly. He swung the pack so that it sat neatly on his back, just so the other didn't think there was anything dangerous inside of it.  He looked left to right and then took a small step closer, a baby step. His ears twitched at the sound of leaves rustling due to the wind that danced through the forest. A bit of black hair fluttered in the wind as they did. Most might have thought a mutant was huge, but Octavian was smaller than most human males his age. He was like a fantasy creature a 'prince of the forest' maybe.<br/><br/>"What's your name..." He was sure the human was surprised he had a brain and could actually speak English and understand it as well.  "I'm Octavian,"  He offered his name first, maybe to try and show the human how... normal he was. He wasn't some damn senseless beast. Now, some mutants were bitter and hateful, but why were they judged on those few instead of a large majority that just want to live.<br/><br/>He remembered his mother, a beautiful woman. She was shot as his father was being pulled away. Their antlers would be 'great prizes' which... just set his mother off. His father tried to tell her to run... but she went to him. She was shot in the skull, dead instantly. Octavian watched behind a tree, watching how they snapped off her antlers and then left her dead in that beautiful field. Still in his hand was the hand-picked wildflowers he had picked with her and his father. His father was then shot in the spine as he was acting up too much. His horns too snapped off.<br/><br/>They weren't the monsters. The family was just picking<i> flowers.<br/>
</i><br/>The young child had spent the rest of that day hiding the gunshot wounds and gave them a bundle of flowers to hide the fact their antlers were gone. He slept with them, then... never went back to the field again.