Luneshale Pass fear the reaper

something prohibitive moved behind her expression. soto tracks the fleeting ghost of its presence as it darts across her eyes and then disappears into a nether he cannot reach.

he stiffens as she moves to a wilting plant, the care she administers earning the slightest softening of his shoulders.

what does she mean by being haunted? soto catalogues his English words until he comes across its equivalent.

a broad grin cracks the ugliness of his great skull. she does not know of juarez, or niño, or marciela. i have this haunting already. he announces as he walks past, supplementing the mound of dirt she’d cupped moments before with his own earthly contribution. he meets her eyes somberly, wondering. do you not sense them?