Hushed Willows I'll tell you stories of a better time

Tagging for reference but its open to whoever!

Ibis was visiting with her new friend again. The one she didn't tell her mother about. The one that, she's come to realize, doesn't have a body attached to it. She knows by now that it's a skull of some kind of animal but that doesn't bother Ibis as much as it should; she's still got that child's innocence accompanied by a lack of experience and knowledge, an ignorance more than anything. Dredging it out of the dirt caused a few tiny vertebrae to crumble away from the base of the skull. Some bits of bone remained in the hole but she'd left them behind when Eleuthera caught her, and by now she's forgotten where the grave had been in the first place. The skull goes with her everywhere; she wants to find @Okeanos and show it to him the way she shares everything, from toys to food to her deepest secrets. The sentiment is soured a little bit when she thinks about @Eleuthera finding her there among the willows.

The skull is in her mouth, between her teeth like an apple in the mouth of a suckling pig. She drags her tongue across it just because, and feels the texture of the porous surface. Ibis determines that she doesn't hate that feeling but it's not as satisfying as the smooth quality of leg bones, or the awkwardly curving rib bones that mommy sometimes brings her. She tests her thoughts a few times as the skull shifts in her mouth, her gait causing it to slip and almost fall a few times.

By the time she stops, her mouth is dry and it feels like she's been breathing in cave dust for too long. As she begins to place the skull down upon the dirt, she pauses. Her eyes grow wide and she hastily looks around in case she isn't actually alone, as if maybe she knows she's got something she shouldn't, and when she deems the coast is clear Ibis sets the skull down. She licks her lips a few times to get her saliva flowing again, and then begins to circle the skull with her head up (almost like a ritual) but she's looking for her brother, wondering if he's around. 

She doesn't want to call out, but considers it when her patience grows thin. Ibis huffs softly to herself and then pauses in her parading, lifts her head, and yelps a tiny howl. Her voice isn't very well developed as in the past, but the sound is sharp and loud enough to carry through the trees.