Duck Lake a game you're gonna lose

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The scarred Scandinavian's ears cupped forth atop his skull, as he shifted when she spoke that a zombie was a ghost. He knew the word 'ghost' well enough but his fair companion went further to explain that it was a physical ghost. For a moment Ragnar processed that, ears slicking back to rest at half mast as he canted his head at her slightly, eyes of Caribbean ice burning with his curiosity and the fascination of her words. "A physical ghost," Ragnar repeated in a soft murmur to himself, staring at the duck with subdued interest for a few seconds before his gaze lifted back to the woman. "Is that possible?" His culture believed in ghosts just as thoroughly as they believed in their Gods and so Ragnar took her words seriously. Yet, he was dubious if only because he was not certain that ghosts had the kind of power to reanimate a dead body just to eat brains. That sounded like a waste to Ragnar who'd much rather just go to Valhalla when he died and be done with it. When the woman confessed that sometimes she felt like a zombie Ragnar's weight shifted and he settled upon his haunches, his curiosity peaked by those words. "You feel like you should be dead?" Ragnar inquired of her unable to help the burning, underlying question of why.