Overture Downs make your peace

The Wayfarer roams on, traversing the Valley further, sliding away from the marsh and towards drier ground—if only to get away from wolves who seek “friendship”. A strange feeling still bubbles at the thought, boiling over if he thinks too much on the word. It is a strange desire, one he’s never heard until now.

Alas, while he ponders the meaning of friendship akin to a cartoon antagonist, his attention is gratefully distracted; drawn to the spewing and familiar stench of bile. That is comforting. Blood, vomit, piss, and shit. The Wayfarer knows those the way most know a warm bed and meal.

He hones in, body moving without thought—wandering aimlessly towards the scene of the crime. A popped eye lingering in the mess, and not far from the trail… well, lets call it destiny that they run into each other again.

Ghost.

You’ve been busy.