Hideaway Strath what's more wrong; that I too wish to be great

Death was a very good friend to him now. It didn’t concern him as much as it should, perhaps. His hum was low, and he pretended to entertain the idea.

But with a place so infused with death? Why wouldn’t he be sat in the middle of it. Soaking it into his very marrow. That, and he just liked it.

This is the first place I’ve found. It was the truth, beyond a bone filled ravine. Even though he liked that one, he knew it wasn’t sustainable unless he was either vermin, or very determined to become a bleached skull.

What else is around? An obvious probe for information, maybe, but he needed to know.