Crack.
A loud snap rings through the air. It echoes off the walls of the ravine and plants itself into two pairs of ears of which only one picks it up.
The other pair is damaged, broken, beyond repair.
They look fine, but on the inside, the ear drum vibrates but no nerve hairs react. No electric impulses are sent to the brain from the inner ear, no reaction from the possessor of it all.
There is only silence in that head, only darkness, a non-existent mind, it is an empty container.
The owner of the other pair reacts. A pair of fully functioning red eyes jerk open and dart around for the source of the sound.
Its ears work frantically to recognize the faintest change in the stillness, past the echo, past the heavy mute of the ravine, past the birdsong that isn't there but should be, past all the nothingness that creates a space of dullness around the two bodies on the gravel and stone covered, gray ground.
It shifts and strokes a strand of silver out of its eyes, tense and still cautiously scanning the areas around them. A quick peek to the left, a longer look to the right.
Yes, he is still there.
Next to the red-eyed, silver-haired creature with the suspicious eyes is the shape of a tall, blond man of strong build. His eyes are slightly opened, a milky white setting over once blue irises. He is leaned back towards the rock as if though he was resting, but he is unnaturally stiff and his arms simply lay at his sides, not folded up or playfully toying with the grime of the floor or rubbing his eyes to wake up like any normal set of arms on a person should be, no, they simply lay at his sides.
Stiff.
Cold.
Dead.
The silver haired creature slowly gathers its feet under itself. It is, by the looks of it, a man with a gene mutation known as albinism. Ocular albinism, to be specific. His almost-white skin, sterling turf of hair and red eyes twaddle-tell him apart from any regular being of mankind.
He slowly, slowly rises to his feet, eyes still darting, and makes that ever so slight change in human posture that indicates that he is on guard, he has acknowledged the presence of someone or something in his nearby, he is aggressive and oh yes, he will fight if he has to.
A small pebble comes bouncing down the ravine. Through the morning fog of this mute world, the sounds of rock on rock rings loud, clear and disturbing.
Something is there.
The albino man has noticed it, too.
Another pebble comes bouncing down, a couple more following.
The man standing recognizes the sound and movement.
Eyes and ears work just fine on this man.
He can hear the rocks clear, for through the silence it is as if they were right besides him rather than fifty meters off in the distance. He flinches at the rare sound of voices and is quick to draw back into the fold created between the cold man and himself, covering the still body and himself with a blanket the same color as the distorted world surrounding them.
A dusty, unsaturated and ashy gray.