Haunted Wood Hosts of the Air

Or perhaps he was the lucky one, being able to escape the barely-life he was given here. All the Nightwalkers did was beat each other up for a chance to keep the top spot for more than a moon or so. It wasn't like this concept flew over the boy's head, he was far too observant not to have noticed. This meeting with the stranger of the mist was as close to a conversation he had ever gotten, which meant a great deal to the youngster.

You look tired. He answered bluntly. I'm tired too. He added with an understanding nod, as if he was some kind of little therapist. He tipped his head in curiosity as he peered real hard at the bloodied ghost. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, but even the apparition's presence was enough to soothe his nerves. He was so big in comparison to the little Death, even though he'd one day be about the same size or even surpass him. Was this what dads were supposed to look like?