[fifthfang] The air in this unfamiliar country was still, and though there was the soft murmur of a river, it was of a black depth that a wise man would tread carefully near. Legault caught no other sound save his own soft tread over tumbled stones, and saw no living creatures, save one some yards hence, shrouded in a deep black that matched the river. He drew closer, with caution.
He’d have no memory of how he got here. Most didn’t. Death wouldn’t try to jog Legault’s memory. It may cause too much distress to his soul.
As Legault approached in the distance, Death faced towards him. His jaw dropped down mechanically and a plum of vapor rose from it. “You were played an unfair hand recently.” The words were slow and uneven in their sound.
“Care to talk a walk?”