Badru sighed internally. Telling these old stories stretched his limited vocabulary, but seeing as it this was essentially a group of the next generation, he supposed it was his duty to pass on the old tales. Especially to Peter. "The wind cries when it passes the place. Inside, the voices chatter, and animals not stay long. Once, many, many, many years ago, there were people who stay. People who want life in this place. There was a... a bad soul among them. This bad soul nip at their heels, prick their arms, itch their scalps until one by one, they go insane. This bad soul cause them to kill each other until only one left. This one... it is winter, and it is desperate. They spend much time fighting, no time storing. There is no food. So he eat his friends and family. He survive winter, but when spring come, a new soul live in this man. He begins to turn others to badness. They begin cult of cannibals, but that man never die. They say bad soul keep him alive and drive other cannibals to madness. The souls of those he kill still live where his left them."