Lost Creek Hollow mr. ghost goes to town

The pack wolf seemed understandably concerned about Rigor's pursuers. "East," he replied simply. "I think they fell back a few miles from here," he added. He had kept running until he couldn't anymore, which was why he was here now. He did not think there was any danger any longer, at least not from those heartless savages.

When the stranger asked, "What's wrong with you?" it forced a dry, raspy laugh from the old man's throat. "It would be quicker to tell you what isn't wrong with me," came his reply. "I was beaten hard by the ugly stick. Far as I know, it's not catching," he quipped. "Then age and experience have unraveled me further. I know I look a fright but you'll never meet someone kinder."

Rigor paused a long moment, then added slowly, "I can be useful too." A rope of drool clung to his lip and then stretched, plopping onto the ground. He might look like a mess but he was not the waste of space he appeared to be at first glance.