Keeper-
Keeper never thinks of death.
It is a fact of life that she has met with acceptance even when she sidesteps it’s evidence still on the ground in a state of decomposition that is foul smelling and gross to look at. But for all that it is gross and fetid, she is the kind to stick her nose in it just to suss out the bits of sinew that cling to the bones and the tatters of fur that still retain some softness and memory of what the pile of death once was - something more, but still just an animal. Like her.
The piles of bones and once-was that she comes across, are like cairns that make the precariousness of their time on this earth. She recognizes them as markers but thinks no more of them or her own short and frivolous mortality. Death comes for all, some day and one way or another. That fact has never bothered her as she lifts her head from the decaying bundle and snorts to clear her nostrils of the fetid smell. She’s long since lost the scent of the deer she was following, and though she knew of ghosts, this was as close to ghosts as Keeper was liable to ever get. Until now.
If it had not been for that little gust of something - that tiny little but oh so momentous sigh! - Keeper might not have stopped in her tracks and just kept on with her own business. Something in that sigh struck her as lonely and not quite right, thus it made Keeper come closer and she had to admit, she was curious. She has become quite the connoisseur as of late of those that are considered strange. Not quite an expert but someone that can appreciate their individual strangeness and who embraces it, because Keeper isn’t all that far from odd herself - just ordinary.
Because she is ordinary and not at all opposed to interrupting;
She quite simply says, “Hello."
not knowing how deep the woods are and lightless