Lost Creek Hollow my father took one hundred and thirty-two minutes to die

So he had been correct in thinking that they did not know each other. She made a comment about her father being deceased, and the ghostly figure's brow creased with thought. The thought stirred something within him that he had not quite embraced before. The idea that death could take anyone at any time had never truly bothered him until he realized that he knew nothing of the man who had created him, and even less of the woman who stood before him. It was likely that his own paternal figure was dead; that time had ticked away one too many notches in his pelt and left him with a frayed body and weary mind. Kavos did not know how he felt about such matters, only that it wasn't a topic that he was fond of.

“Likely mine is too,” he returned to her with a careful stare. There was still the hint of familiarity within the hawkish yellow of her gaze. Kavos wondered where it rooted from; where she felt she had seen him before. The young ghost was not easily forgotten, and he was not quick to allow another's face to leave his memory. So, he wondered if this witch had other familial ties to him, or if she was merely mad.