Maldred pulls on the worn pipe between his thumbnails and cheeks, and smokes it in huffs as he glances around. When he speaks, his words are given indifferently.

“They are spirits who refuse to seek true peace,” Maldred says. “they’ve build their own void and seek new life to replenish theirs. Seems like you fell right into it, boy. HAH!”

Maldred puffs his pipe and gazes towards the the hills.

“Now come along, maybe this time we’ll finish our journey.”

The old man walks away at a steady pace, muttering to himself.