Cricket Creek Bog you'll get it in the next life,

He crept, he crawled, he inched along.

A haunted hunter he had become with this ghost as his target. He could not explain why he did not stop or find some better way to interact. Maybe because this was him. He could not talk to her, he could not attempt to charm social interaction.

If one was not scared of his curiosities and oddities then he was inclined to simply be.

She set the mark and the pace, he followed. Hunched still but body lifted only slightly to move with the quickness she had picked up. He told himself he would not lose her so easily.

But the truth was she controlled this hunt far more than him.