One mustn't fall subject to their pleads, the withered remnants of their voices, ever begging the souls of the living for a piece of their life. Bit by bit, piece by ever growing piece will their soul be taken, until nothing remains but a breath, a whisper, barely a silhouette of who they used to be as their stolen soul is used as a vessel for another to move on. 

Now bound to the forest, they crawl. Endlessly they will search for another, a living soul to replace them to be able to move on. A fruitless attempt for many, and a miserable existence for all.