Chapter 4

An intrigued soul spoke to him, shocked. It had no bodily characteristics aside from two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, which were white as snow, contrasting with its tar-like body. Its voice was thick and grating, excited to speak to the living.

"…Yes. I'm Dane, and you are?" he replied curtly.

The soul raised its hand, expecting a handshake. "I am called Jackal."

Dane expressionlessly stared at the hand, placing his hands behind his back.

"You have the personality of a dry cardboard. Has anyone ever told you that?" asked Jackal.

Dane's mouth opened and closed in disbelief. The veins on his forehead throbbing.

"Forgive me for not wanting to shake hands with something that can't even touch me! The personality of dry cardboard? Better that than being a nosy idiot!" he spat. He had lost his sister, spent a week feeling terrible, and was thrown into a Nightmare. His emotions seethed, begging to boil over. He gave in, and it was refreshing.

"…something? Something! I'm more of someone than you! Who are you calling nosy? You looked at me first!" Jackal cried, livid. She would have punched him by now if not for her lack of anything physical, Dane felt.

"You don't even have a face! And so what if I looked at you first?" Dane flared. "Should I go around sticking my hands in whoever looks at me?"

Jackal threw her arms out to her sides. "Yes, wh…well, when you put it that way…" she said, her voice lowering.

"Regardless of small details! You're rude, impolite, and disrespectful. My father would kick any man who refused a handshake up and down the field." she snarled.

Dane looked around with a mocking smile. "I don't see him. Why don't you call him over?"

Jackal gritted her teeth. "You're able to see the dead. And speak! Who knows what kind of sins you committed to be able to engage with us?! I'd be a fool to introduce you to him," she brazenly rebuffed. "You must be a crazy and mad man."

Dane scoffed. "Indeed, I wonder what sins I committed to be deserving of your horrid company. And crazy and madman mean the same thing, you fool!"

Suddenly, a voice cut in from the side. A cute boy holding his mother's hand had called out to him.

"Who are you talking to? Do you have an invisible friend, too? Can I see him? I'll show you mine," he offered with stars in his eyes. His mother stared at Dane from behind him, pointed at him, and brought her hand across her neck, warning him.

"See, even she thinks you're crazy." Jackal humphed from the side.

***

Dane wandered around the town curiously. He had never been to a place like this. Having spent most of his life in the stronghold of Clan Song or various manors owned by his family, he was rather green. It wasn't that he didn't know how such places operated. He had heard about and prepared for many environments and people, but experiencing them was something else. Something else entirely.

The people seemed so content with their way of life that Dane found it odd. They didn't seem to have some higher purpose or goal in life, not the older people nor the younger ones. Children were children. They gave no thought to the future, happy with pestering people and playing around.

Jackal followed him around, flitting about and through people. She didn't let him out of her sight. Her scrutiny was tiring. Whenever a group of children came near him trying to play with him, she would shout in his ears and do all sorts of distracting things. She was under the assumption that he would harm them. It was amusing, but he wished to go without her antics. Even better if she left him alone.

Dane walked past a smithy. It was the only one he had seen in the town. It had visitors, though scarce. Most people were put off by the sign that read "No money. No entrance."

So Dane looked for quick and cheap work, offering to help people carry things. He hadn't done anything like this before. It left a sour taste in his mouth. Even though he tried for a while, he only found himself with only a few copper coins. When he entered the smithy with it, the blacksmith seemed ready to stab him.

In search of more work, he eventually reached the lower and flatter part of the hill, where men raised fields and livestock. He was sure to find a task here, he told himself. He was right.

In a field, a frail gray-haired man chopped wood. He strained under the weight of his axe and wobbled around with each strike. He dropped his axe more than once to rub his aching back.

"Excuse me!" Dane called out from over the fence.

The man cursed under his breath and looked over. "What is it? Be quick. I have to be done with this load before the sun sets!"

Dane smiled measuredly. "About that, I'd be glad to chop your wood for you in exchange for some coin," he said.

The farmer seemed starstruck. He smiled and waved Dane over excitedly. "Three pieces of silver for all of this. It should take a muscular young lad like you no time at all. Fair?"

Dane jumped over the fence, agreed, and took the axe from the man's weak hands. Dane wanted to take his pay now, but the man said he would only give it after. Dane accepted reluctantly. He imagined an old husk-like farmer must have been cheated regularly.

The work wasn't hard. Dane split his first logs easily. He had chopped firewood before. Eliana said it was a good exercise for his back and arms. Earlier, it would have taken him two or three swings to properly split a log in half before splitting the halves into quarters. It only took one now.

With his enhanced body and the new feel for weapons that he received, it was too easy. The axe felt different in his hand than before. It was lighter and more balanced, even though the handle was misshapen by time.

Jackal watched silently, for which he was thankful. He lost himself in the motion of swinging and stacking. It went on for a while until it didn't.

"I expected you to steal from him or the other people," she said.

Dane paused, losing his rhythm. "Surprised you, did I?" he asked, splitting a half log into a quarter and stacking it on the pile beside him.

"…yes, you did," she admitted.

Dane did not respond, wiping sweat from his brow. It was cold, and the splitting was easy. He did not know why he was sweating.

"Why are you angry?" she asked.

"I'm not," he replied softly, a bit winded.

Jackal pointed at the platform Dane split the wood on. It was a large tree stump rooted in the ground. Dane looked at it in confusion. It was damaged, and cuts littered its top. Underneath, the soil it was placed in was a little unearthed, with some roots coming out. It was not like this when he had started.

She explained, "You've been hitting it like it killed your dog. You looked like you had an axe to grind with it." She snickered at her joke.

He shook his head with annoyance.

He placed another log on the stump and swung. He was softer with his swing.

"You can tell me why you're angry. I mean, who can I tell anyway? The other ghosts have lost their edge for gossip," she offered as he swung again to break the halves into quarters.

Dane threw the wood onto the pile in consideration.

With his physical exertion and some pointing out from Jackal, he realized how angry he was. He could feel his sorrow cutting into his heart like a knife, but he had been watering down his anger. It was like something was burning him alive. He hated himself for what he had done. It was just a silly get-together. Drinking and joking, that's all it was. But it cost Eliana her life.

He gritted his teeth. He wanted to break something. To vent. He placed another log on the stump and swung as hard as possible. It shattered into pieces, and the stump cracked.

He did not blame Blaise or Thalia. He was the one who suggested the meeting. It was his fault. He didn't want to feel that way. But he could not help himself.

Maybe unloading his feelings onto her would do him some good. Who could she tell anyway? And even if she could, she would be wiped away with the Nightmare. Nothing she did with his feelings would matter.

"Okay, Jackal. I don't feel like going on a tangent, so I'll let you ask instead," he sighed.