Blackfeather Woods And I don't know where I'm gonna go

oof. *writes a novel*

scarab's hunt for treasures for his menagerie continues. after a successful haul from otter creek — a small clump of gold about the size of his toe — leaves scarab feeling renewed in his search. the golden rock and his petrified sandpiper have found a temporary home in a crevice he found while searching the cave system beneath the woods and though he has yet to have issue with any of blackfeather wolves messing with his treasures he feels better tucking them away in the most desolate and unnerving place he can find to ward off the curious.

curiosity killed the cat..., the illusionary spectre — a near constant companion these days because apparently the evil dice gods love to torture him — hums in the bone cracking voice of legion. scarab's teeth grit, hating that his ear twitches in the half skeletal phantom's direction on his left. he's been doing his damndest to ignore the morbid vision keeping step with him. though the initial stage of upset has soothed over ( for the most part ) as the realization hit scarab that something in him broke when he's suffered the high fever and that he is and would be the only one to see the reaper that haunts him, he does not want to give indication that he is in any sort of mental place but tip-top.

he's already confessed to maegi about the lengths he's gone to for survival and that he feels no remorse for it. that he'd do it again without a moment's hesitation. he does not want to add mentally unsound to that growing list of secrets.

it is the piece of jawbone clutched betwixt the jowls of the other boy that first catches the prince of plague's attention. gaze of lapis lazuli snaps to it like a greedy black market collector's. it'd be perfect for his menagerie... but the issue was the other boy who held it. this boy was a stranger ...though unless he'd taken to seeing all of the dead scarab knows he is not maegi's. only her daughter dwells with the living now.

for a moment, scarab simply observes, steps slowing and eyes darting to the spectre long enough to note the omen's greedy grin a direct mirror to scarab's hunger for that jawbone piece — before he looks back to the boy whose strides are powerful. proud. he thinks he's important... the spectre hisses with a laugh that prickles scarab's guard hairs. his own bubble of amusement rises. don't we all. the prince of the dead replies in a hushed murmur without thought. a second later and realization that he's acknowledging the spectre verbally again has his brow furrowed and a low annoyed noise rumbling in his chest.

but scarab whisks it away as he begins his approach in an effort to intercept the other boy. hey! scarab calls after him. i don't think i've seen you around. maybe he has and he just has been too caught up dealing with the newest addition in his life to notice — it was very plausible, at least.

nanowrimo: 523