Ghost had been silently tracking you, the enemy, through the woods. Stepping around a few trees, he saw you sitting by a lake looking to the night sky softly singing.

”..rich as the mud after rain upon the ground, they’re a whiskey hue of brown braided river running wild, i fell astray but in you i have found, that i am ever bound to your hazel eyes.”

You heard the snap of a twig causing you to turn in the direction of the noise. “Sing it again.” his rough accent rang out through his words.