Settling, feeling the way the Willows hang around him, the breeze as it combs through his coat. It's not a bad afternoon, if Dread does say so himself. He would have known these Willows better, if things had been different. If things hadn't been... the way they had. Dread knows better than to dwell on the thoughts that kept him company within the Whistling Willows. More ghosts swirling around his head. Giving them heed would be a mistake.
A stranger draws Dread's attention, a voice. A child's voice. Maybe a little younger than the pups he'd been around lately. Bright red streak of a boy, calling out among the afternoon shadows. Disjointed, though Dread wouldn't tense. Blue gaze flickering upwards, taking the child in. "Good afternoon," curiosity coloring his words. Feral children weren't uncommon, even if this one did appear to have the hiccups.
Bard
