As I listened to (Y/N)'s stories of her life as a scullery maid, it was not infrequently that I would grow disgusted with myself for having supported such treatment when I was alive. Seeing me succumbing to gloominess- weighed down as I was by my own culpability- (Y/N) often brought up the point that it served no one for me to persist in being maudlin and mentally punishing myself. She went on to relay that, in fact, such moodiness was quite an annoyance to her.

I'd never responded well to criticism. Thus, at first, her attitude only served to make me angry. But after awhile, I realized that her chiding was, (at least to some degree), proof that she cared for my welfare. I found that idea to be incredibly satisfying!

In time, (Y/N) learned a far better way to cheer me when I was feeling morose- talking about the wildlife around us. Though her sudden changes of topic were quite transparent, she was nevertheless consistently successful in her endeavors to lift my spirits via discussion of flora and fauna. I had always loved animals of all kinds, and exchanging stories about the natural world with (Y/N) never failed to bring a smile to my face. She quickly learned as much and ruthlessly exploited my weakness whenever she felt I was being overly pig-headed or sullen.

As we continued exchanging tales, it quickly became apparent that she and I often had different experiences with the beasts and plants around us, what with her perpetually in the forest, and I tethered to my castle. I was pleased to discover that (Y/N) knew many of the terms for species I did not. Of course, I did my best not to reveal my ignorance. She had, over the years, even learned to recognize individual critters, and had given them nicknames! Thusly she was often able to give quite intricate accounts of entire lifetimes and family lines; it was rather like attending a recitation or a play!

Badgers were one of my most favorite topics. With their long, pointed snouts and boldly striped heads, I'd always found them eye-catching. And who wouldn't love those tiny, round ears? I was also charmed by their inquisitive nature. Though I had often seen badgers roaming the fields at night, hunting and foraging for seemingly anything not pinned down, (Y/N) described how they lived in forest dens, in family groups. Within these burrows, she had, at times, seen other animals live alongside the badgers, such as rabbits and foxes. Furthermore, the badgers' babes were all born in winter instead of spring!

The hedgehog was another subject I especially enjoyed. Hedgehogs were quite vocal, making funny little grunts, hisses, and huffing and puffing about. Both of us enjoyed watching them waddling around at night, living their solitary lives and curling up in the nests they made in sheltered areas. It seemed to me that the little hedgepigs were one of the creatures most reactive to my presence, throwing fussy fits if I got too close. (Y/N) reported that her experiences were the same. Who could say why it was that hedgehogs were so exceptionally irritated by the dead? (Y/N) and I would laugh together as we exchanged theories.

(Y/N) was surprised to learn that I was also very fond of the beautiful dragonflies that seemed to blossom into the air in the summer. She was able to teach me what she had learned about them, and it was fascinating! They laid their eggs in water, which later transformed into another strange, intermediate form before gaining their wings. She also imparted to me that dragonflies were, in fact, predators; they hunted other insects and plucked them right out of the air! Apparently the dragonfly also had a doppelganger, which was similar in appearance but was more slender. These mystery insects, which (Y/N) called 'damselflies,' kept close to the water in the woods, which explained why I wasn't familiar with them. Nevertheless I decided to keep my eyes peeled for dragonfly imposters in the future. Perhaps I hadn't been looking closely enough.

Indeed, (Y/N) admittedly held the lion's share of knowledge about the flora and fauna around us. However, we found that many of the creatures that frequented the woodland also ventured onto the grounds of the castle proper, where I had been able to observe them as well. For instance, we had both seen many foxes and heard the eerie cries that pierced the winter air when the vixens signified they were ready to mate.

(Y/N) was a surprisingly adroit teacher. She taught me that the conniving, grey bird that laid eggs in the nests of other birds was, in fact, the cuckoo that I'd heard of referred to as the 'harbinger of spring.' Apparently, not only did they hide their eggs among those of other birds, but the newly hatched cuckoo chicks actually pushed out all other eggs and hatchlings from the nest!

I was surprised to learn that (Y/N) had no fear of snakes, lizards, insects, and the like. Indeed, her merry smile as she relayed tales of gluttonous beetles and hunting spiders was quite unladylike! Though I supposed it only made sense for the dead not to fear such things, she nevertheless continued to grow anxious whenever I mentioned the horses or dogs I'd had when alive. Perhaps it was because, unlike the creepy crawlies, she hadn't had centuries to acclimate herself to them, to see what delightful creatures they truly were? I resolved that, given that she was able to joyfully describe watching a poisonous adder give birth to live young, surely, at some point, I'd be able to soften her dread of some of the greatest companions of man.

(Y/N) had also seen many things I hadn't. Case in point, she described to me the timid, furry-tailed dormice that only came out at night. Another small rodent was the wood mouse. Despite making their burrows among the roots of trees, the wood mice were agile climbers as well, and could even leap high into the air to escape predators! Apparently both dormice and wood mice left tiny circular holes in the shells of hazel nuts they had fed on.

She also elucidated the difference between a stoat, an ermine, and a weasel. Firstly, an ermine was simply a stoat in its white winter coat. While stoats and weasels looked similar, stoats were larger and had longer, black-tipped tails. Both were solitary creatures, but weasels were more secretive, preferring thick cover.

(Y/N) had a seemingly endless supply of tales from the forest that was just out of my reach. She told me how bats gathered above the trees right after sunset, how the dull brown nightingale sang beautiful songs in the summer, how frogs and newts laid their eggs in water, and how the vivid purple and blue butterflies I had mostly seen from afar spent their time in the woods alongside their black and white striped cousins.

Just as with the wildlife, (Y/N) knew more about the plants around us, especially when it came to their proper names. Though even I could recognize the berries of mistletoe in winter and the bluebells and foxglove in spring, (Y/N) was familiar with wild garlic, honeysuckle, dog rose, primrose, and many I'd never heard of.

Not unlike the ever-changing world of man, so did the natural world change both around the castle and in the forest. (Y/N) missed the striking pine marten, which had seemingly disappeared about a century ago. Similarly, the buzzard seemed to appear less and less frequently. In contrast, the tiny, rather solitary roe deer had recently undergone an increase in numbers. (Y/N) also pointed out something I hadn't noticed- the squirrels had gone from mostly red in color to predominantly grey. Neither of us had any idea what all these changes might mean.

Both (Y/N) and I found that most creatures seemed able to see us just as plain as day, but, unlike humans, the majority did not take fright at our antics. Most critters were indifferent, though a few, like the hedgehog, had stood out to us both as reacting differently. Deer tended to bolt at the slightest provocation, not unlike how they shied away from the living. Though the forest-dwelling roe deer would bark when startled, their larger cousins, the red deer, fled silently.

We passed countless hours in conversation, but it never grew tedious. In fact, with time, we were meeting almost every night. As we shared our worlds with each other, I found that I could hardly wait until my perimeter grew to include the woods. (Y/N) professed to feel the same about being able to visit the castle and the living that came to see it.

When I was away from (Y/N), I found myself constantly thinking of her. Each time something amusing happened to me, I would try and remind myself to tell (Y/N) all about it when next we met. I spent a great deal of energy on haunting the tourists in ever more innovative ways, just so I could tell (Y/N) how it had gone and impress her with tales of my otherworldly skill.

Indeed, I anxiously awaited each visit. Given the intensity of the excitement and happiness I felt at the thought of her, I was a bit concerned that I might seem overly enthusiastic and that (Y/N) might feel smothered by my joyfulness at having found a friend. Thus, I forced myself to attend to other activities and avoided the grasslands east of the castle until I could no longer resist.

At times, as I would approach, I would hear (Y/N)'s dreadful singing. Rather than ruin her private moment, I would hide myself behind bits of dilapidated stonework, plug my ears as best I could, and watch her dance in secret.

It was then that, on occasion, the swelling of my codpiece would return. Constantly, as I watched (Y/N), I would wonder what she would look like if she danced without her clothes on. Would the hair between her legs be darker or lighter than the hair on her head? Where did her nipples rest on her breasts? When our borders overlapped, would I be able to touch her? Would she want to touch me? Though the bulge in the front of my pants yearned for attention, I didn't dare. In time, I grew less frightened of my erections, and simply took care not to visit with (Y/N) when I had one in presence.

With my time spent in such good company, I almost lost track of the days as they passed. Before I knew it, the anniversary of my death had come, bringing massive changes with it.