Mount Everfall wanting things from people who don't want to give them to me.

the petals fell as he breathed their scent. if they held any scent. everything was the same here: sloppy mud and clinging, hanging moss. it was a surprise the stooped figure did not carry his own invasive layer of it. his fur was hanging, weeping from him, as a willow's heavy bough; tangled where it had dragged among the green.

there was a voice. blue eyes. the man turned slowly and turned, and turned, and then had his eye glowing luminous and eerie upon them. not a word spoken - only a deep nod, unblinking.

then he seemed to fade back, swaying, settling. come look, the movement said.