Two Rivers Isle it's the living who are ghosts.

The man said nothing, and yet dropped himself into what Ulrich assumed at first was a submissive pose. A pose he himself was familiar with as something he'd had to do before leaving his original pack with Adylaide. He had often prostrated himself before the king, or watched others do it. He relaxed then, as this stranger was showing him respect and a lack of aggression. And then he caught a flash of a different color on the man's throat and squinted, stepping closer to the water's edge to get a better luck.

A scar. A scar on the throat. He blinked. Was the scar a coincidence or had the man been showing it to him. Did he need healing? Ulrich grimaced; neither he nor Adylaide knew much in the way of the healing arts. Or... perhaps this accounted for the man's lack of speech? Are you injured? he asked. If you've come for healing, I'm afraid we cannot do much for you here. Can you speak?