[ The deep woods are nostalgic in an odd way; the ghostly silent encampment he's stumbled across is pitched with decaying tents, their spines standing out as the canvas walls rot and grow moss. If he squints, it reminds him of another time in his life. The bodies here are more fetid than his memories, less charred, but just as lifeless.
Maybe that's why he feels obliged to haul up a corpse in his arms, the stink and rot of its caving flesh sticking wetly to his clothes. It takes time to gather the bodies in a place where the earth is loamy and soft enough to dig, but soon enough he has a good collection of them.
It's easy to fall into the task like a routine, even when another leaf slices past his face, blood slipping down from his brow. That is, until he hears someone else nearby. ]
...You ought not to linger, stranger.
[ There's a roughness to his voice, on-edge with this place's tricks, but it's a genuine suggestion. It's not a safe place to rest, or a pleasant one. ]
naruto ; oakwoods
Maybe that's why he feels obliged to haul up a corpse in his arms, the stink and rot of its caving flesh sticking wetly to his clothes. It takes time to gather the bodies in a place where the earth is loamy and soft enough to dig, but soon enough he has a good collection of them.
It's easy to fall into the task like a routine, even when another leaf slices past his face, blood slipping down from his brow. That is, until he hears someone else nearby. ]
...You ought not to linger, stranger.
[ There's a roughness to his voice, on-edge with this place's tricks, but it's a genuine suggestion. It's not a safe place to rest, or a pleasant one. ]