The humans sat in silence for a brief moment. “They appear to be honouring their dead.” thought Ghost.

Old crow picked at a bone he’d been gnawing at for several minutes, oblivious to the reverie.

Ghost hated Old Crow more and more as his time with him went on.

He wondered if Old Crow knew of honour. If he knew of sacrifice.

“I know of wars fought in the names of the rich, and the bodies left behind all for naught.” Old Crow quipped suddenly.

Ghost was shocked. Had he spoken out loud? Were his own thoughts not safe?

Old Crow continued to gnaw at his bones.

Labels: Fresh Gravel For Your Craw, ghost, Inktober, Inktober Day 19, Old Crow, Pentel