The funny thing about feeling alone is that one really isn't alone in the scheme of things. There is always someone, something there just outside of the moment. These things, however, are so often overlooked when one is lost deep in thought, only brought to one's attention when they make themselves known. Osias was that something in Jettem's moment. He heard everything: the red doe's plea, the sapling's longing for spring, the dead. It was a soft sound, earth and bone, whispers held within every fragment of it all. The creature wondered if Jettem could hear it, too. In some ways, she was different from many of the other deer that he dealt with.

It wasn't long before his great frame rose from behind her to take his seat upon the stone that he called his. "I am always here, Jettem," he began before clearing his throat of some obstruction. It could have been a fly or some mass of maggots for all his company knew. He proceeded, his voice louder than before. "I always listen for those who need me, yes."

"You seem...distressed." There was a distinct hiss followed by the closing clatter of sharp front teeth behind that mask of his. "What is it that you need to speak with me about?"

Osias arched his great neck as the other began, large red antlers casting a shadow over his company, deer and sapling alike. "How does one hold the souls of others?" the creature repeated the question aloud, his onyx eyes glazing over, gazing upwards. "Easily."

"You see, souls are small things, yes. Most everyone has carried one at some point in time, yet they know nothing of its weight, of its value." His voice was deep, toned by time itself. "I, for one, hold onto many. They are as delicate as wing beats."

"Why do you ask, my little doe?"

"For such a small creature, you have a lot of questions," Osias muttered, the sweet smell of decaying firewood creeping out from behind the corners of his mask. "Rest assured, Jettem, you do still have a soul. Your soul, yes. One only loses their soul upon dying, at which point it is free to travel to a plane beyond this world. Of course, there are some that trade theirs away before death, but who am I to argue the whims of those that live and breath? I am simply here to listen."

The buzz of the flies dulled as Osias spoke, as if the insects, too, were awaiting answers. "You are neither dead nor dying, so your fascination with souls is curious." His teeth clicked together with the completion of his statement. Those onyx eyes took in her expression, hoping to unfurl the ridge in her brow. "They are precious little things, yes. Their worth...varies. I will tell you, though, that I do watch over some of the souls of this forest. I keep them safe, yes. Protect them from the cold. They are delicate little things."

The creature's voice trailed off into a guttering growl as something subsided within his throat. "A soul and a body can remain separate so long as they both exist somewhere. Souls provide little in the way of a working body."

Osias leaned forward, such that his face, that mask was level with Jettem's. Those onyx eyes took in her expression and were seemingly displeased with its insincerity. "That smile is hardly becoming, if you don't mean it," he chided quietly, his voice remarkably clear for a moment. "You may ask me any number of questions, yes. I have all of the time in the world." And with all of the time in the world came knowledge, something that the creature would share with only those bold enough to ask.