“Long ago the humans would burn those who thought differently alive at the stake” Old Crow mused.

He’d watched it happened, perched as ever in his tree. Curious at the folly of it all.

“They’d do much worse to me if they saw my true face.”

Ghost felt a heat rise in his chest, flushing his face. He’d wanted to ask the question; he knew he’d regret the answer.

All he knew is he’d been tied to Old Crow since he’d met him.

His disdain for his predicament grew with each passing year, and he’d long ago lost track of how many years it had been.

Ghost said nothing.

Labels: Fresh Gravel For Your Craw, ghost, Inktober, Inktober Day 13, Old Crow, Pentel