@"King"
To anyone watching, it might seem odd that a young child of any sort were frolicking through the woods unattended. Sure, it was the middle of the day on a weekend, and sure the kid wasn't really very far into the trees, but still.
Of course, if there were anything in the area capable of injuring this particular kid (especially without being eaten), then there was a much bigger problem. This was, after all, a first generation black hole/eldritch hybrid child bouncing around, picking up anything light enough to lift and throwing it into the normally-anatomically-impossibly-huge pit of endless black that was this kid's gaping mouth.
They were also humming to themselves, regardless of the rationality of a black hole being able to produce sound at all (blame the eldritch habit of just plain breaking reality), and occasionally stopping to bite through entire trees. Taste was not a factor, only volume, for the black hole child was forever hungry and had the facial ability to bite through most natural substances.
They also occasionally tripped, even with five leg tentacles to spread out their weight and try to balance better (planetary gravity and walking were both still super new), and took out a large faceful of dirt and grass and fallen debris whenever they faceplanted. Their unusual footprints were, as a result, studded with giant ragged holes, unhindered by dirt, tree roots, or boulders.
To anyone watching, it might seem odd that a young child of any sort were frolicking through the woods unattended. Sure, it was the middle of the day on a weekend, and sure the kid wasn't really very far into the trees, but still.
Of course, if there were anything in the area capable of injuring this particular kid (especially without being eaten), then there was a much bigger problem. This was, after all, a first generation black hole/eldritch hybrid child bouncing around, picking up anything light enough to lift and throwing it into the normally-anatomically-impossibly-huge pit of endless black that was this kid's gaping mouth.
They were also humming to themselves, regardless of the rationality of a black hole being able to produce sound at all (blame the eldritch habit of just plain breaking reality), and occasionally stopping to bite through entire trees. Taste was not a factor, only volume, for the black hole child was forever hungry and had the facial ability to bite through most natural substances.
They also occasionally tripped, even with five leg tentacles to spread out their weight and try to balance better (planetary gravity and walking were both still super new), and took out a large faceful of dirt and grass and fallen debris whenever they faceplanted. Their unusual footprints were, as a result, studded with giant ragged holes, unhindered by dirt, tree roots, or boulders.