Blacktail Deer Plateau now I know the boy gettin' restless

ingram expects the visit.

he stays close to the small refurbished abandoned rabbit warren he chose to store his threadbones and the gifted goat skull the mysterious woman had brought him before his final departure from blackwater islands.

the bones still taste of salt; worried by his teeth and washed with saltwater. soon, he would have to return them to the shore to cleanse them in moon touched saltwater ...but still their sea and moon magick was potent enough.

the dying leaves of the trees that encompass the sacred hallow whisper of approach; the newest recruit's scent carried by the cooling wind.

at the sound of baudelaire's approaching footfalls, ingram half-turns. nestled at his paws is his rabbit pelt of threadbones; easily his most prized possessions. do not be shy. you must be close to me. else the threadbones will not give an accurate reading. they might be tainted with my threads. especially when ingram has to untangle his own obsessive desire with reading his own threads as told by the bones. it was easier to focus when distance was closed, when the one he was reading for acted as a earthly tether.