Hedge Ghost

It’s easy to get lost in the Hedge. It’s easy to wander among the brambles, hoping for a break in the growth and a glimpse of familiar ground that never comes. It’s easy to stumble into a pit lined with walls that weep real tears, sadness slicking the surface so you can’t climb back out. It’s easy to crash through the branches into an open area, only to find you’ve wandered into a circle of hungry trolls arguing over which protein goes best with their stew. (Surprise, it’s you.)

It’s easy to die in the Hedge, and the dead tend to stick around.

Not all Hedge ghosts, however, are former changelings or humans. Emotions shape the Hedge: strong impressions of fear and pain, joy and rapture, feelings that can grow so overwhelming that they awaken as their own entities. Travelers passing through the Hedge also leave pieces of themselves behind, bits of their souls that snag on the Thorns. A potent enough Icon may detach itself and continue wandering, or a hobgoblin seamstress may gather Icons up and sew them into something new, made entirely out of other scraps of souls.