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

he cast his head to one side, then another, as if he were a dowsing-rod seeking precious treasure. that wasn't far from the truth - but as he moved to snap at more buds, he came up short. this was before the boy spoke; during, and after, the ghost gave a long, slow blink and looked over again.

shh. he softly hissed. quiet, black-head. quiet spirit. quiet, quiet, too loud for me.

only some of those bulbs would be efficacious. the ghost could tolerate a lot; there was no telling how much he'd found and devoured before the boy came. he coughed, lifted his lip - but only to work some plant matter from his gums, and let it ball against his tongue, to drop.

what he'd eaten was dulling so much. why would the boy say no to that?