Blackfeather Woods Of a dollar to earn

The boy looked around, seemingly concerned with the shadows at his back. Foolish of him to be so flighty; if the forest wished to harm him it would find a way, and it would not puppet Titmouse to do it. He returned to himself upon hearing that voice ring out again, and turned his attention away.

The air was cold and dead, with the only sign of life being this boy's scent and one other, intertwined with it. Titmouse sighed. Are you pledged to this place? Are you the forest's keeper? Better him than me, the ghost thought.