Tribal

25

Ghost slowly opened his eyes and looked down to see Acacia wrapped around him. He didn't mind her being so close, but they had to get moving.

"Acacia, come, we need to get moving," he said, lightly shaking her.

"Mmm, just a little longer," she complained. Ghost sat up and tried to stand, but Acacia squeezed, keeping him from moving.

"Acacia..." Ghost thought she was being adorable, but they needed to stay ahead of their pursuers. She groaned and sat up, Ghost's cloak sliding off her slightly. Ghost grabbed the cloak and covered her back up with it.

"Aw, what? Don't like what you see?" Ghost was curious about her newfound flirtatiousness, but he stood and took her cloak down and handed it to her. "I like this one," she said. He was beginning to become annoyed, but he placed Acacia's cloak in his inventory and pulled out a spare.

"You're lucky I have this," he said. She pouted.

"I liked you better without the cloak," she turned her head away.

"What is up with you? You didn't act like this before?" he asked her.

"I'm sorry, must be the yearly cycles hitting me. I'll try to be better about it," Acacia said, embarrassed at her actions. Ghost knew of insect heat cycles; he never had them, but he sometimes wondered what they were like. He remembered a time when Hornet was going through one and had to stay in her room all day long. By the end of the month, Quirrell was beyond exhausted. The poor pillbug looked as if he had been starved to death; he was so skinny. Hornet would apologize for another week nonstop until Quirrell was back to normal. The memory made Ghost chuckle to himself. He stood and began walking to the Resting Grounds, and Acacia walked up next to him and wrapped herself around his arm.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, sorry, do you not like it? I'll stop," she slowly let go, but Ghost placed a hand on her head.

"It's fine, just be careful when you walk." They continued until they reached a gravesite with many different stone coffins. Acacia squeezed his arm when she saw a few of them were open. "What has you so worried?" he looked down and asked.

"Undead... They are just a fairytale... Right?" she asked, quivering.

"No, undead are very real; this is the place they reside," Ghost said. All the color drained from Acacia's face, and she buried her face into Ghost's chest. "There is nothing to fear; the undead are relatively friendly and tend to avoid people anyways."

"How are insects transformed into undead?" she asked.

"If they are not buried correctly, then their corpses become animated. There is no soul inside as the soul has moved on at the point of death, but the corpse gains a mind of its own, acting solely on instinct. They are nothing more than animals, but they do not seek violence. They prefer to hide in the shadow of the crypts," Ghost said.

"Well, it's good we aren't going into the crypts," Acacia said, relieved. Just then, Ghost pushed the lid off of a cracked coffin. "What are you doing!" Acacia shouted.

"Well, Ze'mer's refuge is hidden inside this crypt; we need to enter if we are to reach it," Ghost said. Acacia could swear he was slyly grinning.

"I'm staying out here!" she said. "I will not enter those crypts!"

"Okay, but you may have to deal with the wandering spirits out here," Ghost said and jumped into the coffin.

"The what?" she said, but before she could pursue Ghost, she felt a cold hand on her shoulder.

"Hello there..." Acacia turned, and a floating, ghostly insect had its hand on her shoulder; it was missing an arm. "Have you seen my arm?..." it asked. She screamed and jumped into the coffin. When she hit the bottom, she looked around for Ghost, who was leaning against a nearby wall.