Starglow Basin [m] vengeance is hereby mine

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colt briggs would say "i aint been dead long enough to bring back, why in the blue hell are yew disrespectin' me?"
the thing about dying the way he'd done was that yer soul tended to stay bound, and for colt briggs, that meant he was tethered in the deadly center of the basin. three days in. three days from the far ridge which might lead a traveller back into the teekon. who could know? no one had ever gotten that far.
the manner in which one died was particular as well. in briggs' case, he'd been bits of bone still losing patches of ragged fur, but largely bleached by the unrelenting sun.
starglow my left nut!
colt groaned. he lifted a paw and could see his ivories right through whatever ghost skin he'd been given. this should terrify him, by all rights, but he ain't died scared.
he'd died in a mission.
ironic, briggs reckoned. had he opposable thumbs and proper hands and a cigarette, he would have lit it then, a skeleton man who shimmered between flesh and stark bone depending on who might be staring in his direction.
ironic that she couldn't come to him here without dying. not what he wanted for her. 
but colt couldn't move on without the connection. "jes plumb fuckery," the ghost swore to itself, pacing a tight, annoyed swagger around his real self, femurs and tibias and teeth all piled there. "ain't that some shit, red."