Haunted Wood before then, mhm

famine looked at santiago, then back down to his bird to start plucking its feathers away like he'd seen the others do. more praises came, and he realized that he hadn't actually thanked their giver yet — thanks, he muttered, voice low and contemplative, can we stay here for a while?

there was a mutual silence between them, held by the eery silence in the canopy. famine waited impatiently for something else to happen, to distract him, while digging into the tender breast.