Haunted Wood what is, is what must be

The forest harbored more than small, nimble creatures. The spider had sought the depths of shadow after being denounced by a wandering guard of the caldera pack, and he had watched from his many hidden vantages as they collectively abandoned all that they held dear. In the time between, Skaro had ventured closer and closer to the land and its fading reminders; he sought the carcass that had drawn him close in the first place and was pleased to find it somewhat intact. Over the course of many days he returned to that half buried mess to lay claim to bits and pieces - some he would toss about merrily, others that he would unearth and carry with him to the dark wood.

He had found a scapula, scattered bits of tiny vertebra, and even attempted to bring the cavernous hip along with him, but in the end abandoned that to the crows. What tiny bits he scavenged soon adorned the area which had become his roost. The trees were littered with these pale chunks of chewed bone, the soil greedy to reclaim them. The scapula he carried betwixt his teeth.

The silence in the forest was precious, but soon the voice of a cousin shattered it, rousing him from a lazy sprawl among the leaf-litter. He had propped the scapula beneath his sharp face, but now abandoned it as he scrambled to heed the call - carving an erratic path through the trees with his slim body slinking low.