κενό

The pallid male had wandered on, finding himself in a particularly dark part of the woods. Tendrils of vines grew up and over, slinging from tree to tree, cross-hatching themselves until there was barely any sun to reach where Xolan now walked. He moved forward in his usual style: slow, but not without intent.
The male was in entirely new lands. He had met one fellow, sure, but still, everything was foreign and new and.... Everything was κενό. Blank.
It was truly a chance for the male to invent his future, to rewrite whatever fate had been chiseled out in stone hundreds of years before his birth. But, for some reason, the thought of that did not particularly excite Xolan. He was docile, happy to accept his place on the lower end of his society, mostly because it meant that people left him alone. But now, well, he didnt have such luck.
Golden eyes dance to and fro on the landscape, watching for, well, anything that might come his wait. New lands meant new terrors.
Xolan sucked in a deep breath; perhaps he would work on finding his voice. Become less of a statue and more of a man. But, if you knew Xolan, you would know that was all just wishful thinking. He probably couldn't talk more even if his life depended on it.