Luneshale Pass fear the reaper

His single eye was like the lantern of a deep sea predator that Disa would never see or name, whispering through the biological switchboard of a distant ancestor in a voice that is cold and ancient. It was an ugly thing, she decided, and so was Soto.

He tracked her path through the green. The very fact that he cared so deeply for the infant plants made her want to rip them from the ground. Less because of what they grew up to be – he was right, all parttakers had a choice – and more because he might attack her, and Disa wanted an excuse to bite the wicked lips off his face and spit them in his eye. She didn't know why. Something about him inspired violence and rage, and it wasn't the trail of addicts up and down the south road.

Disa stopped at a struggling plant. Gently, carefully, she heaped the soil with her paw to push the stem upright. "I just thought you should know," she said sweetly, eyes on her work, "In case you start to feel haunted and wonder why."