Ghost awoke to a dull, wet crunching sound.

Old Crow had woken early and been hunting. His beak covered in gore.

“Why so nice of you to join us!” Old Crow preened.

Whatever the fever had done to knock Old Crow down, it seemed the fresh kill had restored.

Ghost felt that same lingering hopelessness snake its way back into his mind.

“I am bound here, forever chained to this creature” Ghost thought.

“Now Ghost, there’s no need for so much melancholy” Old Crow replied, though Ghost had not spoken a word.

Ghost shuddered.

Labels: Fresh Gravel For Your Craw, ghost, Inktober, Inktober Day 25, Old Crow, Pentel