Ronan had left the barn minutes ago, slowly traipsing down the dirt path which trailed off to the graveyard. It didn't unnerve Ronan, crossing through it. Ronan was a dreamer, not a psychic. He wouldn't be able to hear or see any ghosts (well one's that did not want to be seen or heard). There is little that unsettled Ronan. Desensitization was both a gift and a curse.
A faint voice has him pausing, though. His eye squinted, carefully scanning his surroundings. "I would run into a fucking ghost," he murmured to himself. But, instead of walking away from the voice, Ronan crept towards.
Someone. Wait. No. Something? Ronan wasn't too sure and approached with caution.