leaves rustle with the quick expulsion of insects, their pathing frantic and varied. hurried beating of hooves follow soon after, a family of deer quick to scatter. yet, all that approaches is a steady stream of footsteps; careful and slowed. they wish not to humor the corpse that visits their home, taints these woods.
laughter trickles from parted lips, amusement taken by their quick escape. familiar, it was, watching souls flee from its touch; from its sights.
"fickle creatures, aren't they? when there is no harm to befall them."
unspoken 'yet' hangs at the end of its words, drifting into a low, breathy hum, instead. it was not merely the creatures that cared not for the ghast's presence, but the forest as a whole. observation made evident once a step too far had been taken, left to watch as sights of a grand tree grew distant and the soles of its shoes dug at disturbed soil.
"how interesting..." it begins, observing the marks created once repelled. luckily, it would seem one other soul would earn its attention; one that did not flee. she earns its gaze next. "tell me, are these woods always so frigid with its guests?"
( @daxned )














