Blackfeather Woods Rust to rust

@Iliksis

The Woods had grown quieter and quieter. It seemed that with the death of the caretaker, they'd all left. The spirit had made sure that the caretaker's flesh was put to good use. Her pelvis bone had been cleaned by the crows once the Shadow had stopped caring about it overly much, had grown too tired to stop the birds from doing their efficient cleaning job. The bones were of no use to the birds.

Now that the pelvis was cleaned the whispers of the caretaker's spirit were far more audible. She had taken her place beside the spirit of the unknown, named Sheogorath or Cicero by the caretaker. But just as the spirit named the caretaker not Relmyna, she preferred Unknown for him. Perhaps he would bring her a more suitable name in due time.

The night brought her solace. She sat by the altar that held the caretaker's pelvis. It would bring them fertility in due time, once they ran out of food. Soft whispers in old tongues filled the dreamy spirit's head, her ears twitching as she tried to understand what the caretaker was trying to tell her from the beyond.