Lost Creek Hollow my father took one hundred and thirty-two minutes to die
you feed it all your woes; the ghostly garden grows
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The stranger spoke with a name that registered nothing within him. There were no fleeting memories that seemed to claw their way back into the forefront of his mind. The ghost scowled at her with a quick exhale through flared nostrils. He grew tired of the games she felt the need to play. Kavos thought it best that he leave her and brave the storm instead of enduring any further questioning, but she managed to hold him in place for a moment longer with one question.

“Your father?”

Kavos turned sharply so that his wildfire gaze settled on her dark-hooded features and he felt the hairs along his neck and shoulders rise instinctively. It would have struck anyone else as a peculiar question, but the ghost lacked all of the social grace to understand what she was eluding to. Instead, it managed to set him on edge. “I never knew him,” the great predator returned in a tone that was forced to be calm. Madness toyed on the edges of his gaze. “And yours?” He could not hold himself for very long.
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