Blackfeather Woods my life and all seemed turned to clay

The ghostly child remained at a respectful distance while voices whispered in her head. Do it, do it, do it they seemed to chant, but it was hard to make out because they were all whispering at once and so the pale child could not make out most of what they said, truly. She licked her lips and watched. Squeaky looked at her as if trying to figure out if she knew what the caretaker was up to, but no answer came but a sassily quirked eyebrow.

When the caretaker gestured not just Squeaky, but the spirit forward to, she easily obliged. The voices had already told her to do it, after all, and it was in her curious nature to try this out, no matter what. The spirit arched her neck and ears perked forward in silent question as she treat closer as instructed and looked upon the caretaker.