Phantom Hollow oh, who is she?

Dead.

Mother, dead.

A slow blink, as his sister shook, crumbled, no longer set her gaze upon him but turned away to face the empty behind her. His black eyes stared back.

Mother.

Dead.

Dead.

Mother.

Oh.

He had walked with death before. He had touched it, and Metis words hung open like a grave, like skeletons wrestling to climb out and break free, but she piled on the dirt before the dead could see the day.

Mother. Dead. He had counted her dead, too, like he had counted his sister, still counted his brother and father. But unlike Metis, their mother was actually cold and gone and packed six-feet-under.

Oh.

There was something he should say here, he knew it, but he stayed his silence and imstead, slowly shrunk the space that separated him from his sister.

We are in like company, then he said, softer. Mother, dead. Dead, mother, I've death behind me, too, but the Crows would not come this far to find him, we could find somewhere to go together. Maybe somewhere sunny for once.