Come closer… come on… that’s it just a bit-   Dagmær growled as the rabbit scurried back inside its burrow.  She was down-wind, not that there was much wind here to begin with.  She could’ve sworn that her scent was well hidden but obviously not… well, maybe.  The strange thing about this forest was that quite a few animals seemed to be a bit jumpy, more nervous than usual.  Did it have anything to do with the sun beginning to set?  She could feel the fur on the back of her neck rising and prickling down her back.  Ok, it was time to get out of here, but which way should she go?  Dag’s nostrils flared as she searched for familiar scents as well as sights but nearly jumped out of her skin as a voice started yelling through the trees.  Rhys?  Her eyes widened and she took off toward the sound, weaving around trees and debris as she sought the source of the noise. “Rhys!  Rhys is that you?  Hey, wait up!” She chased after Rhys and just as she was about to pounce… she fell right through her friend and into the muck.  “Rhys?”  She looked around and saw nothing, heard nothing, smelt… nothing.  Good lord had she imagined it?  Dag got to her paws, ears and tail hanging down in shame.   ""

Irie wasn't quite certain why she entered these woods. Every instinct screamed against it, yet, she did not know. She knew the stories - knew the tales, the danger, the sightings of ghosts of loved ones and friends that were common here. Perhaps it was because she did not truly lose anyone, or so she hoped. It'd been so long since she'd seen her family... maybe they weren't all okay?

The wolf shuddered at the thought, even as she realized that it was the woods themselves that caused the thoughts to come into her head. Why wouldn't they be okay? The Diamachi were strong wolves, well accustomed to being independent. They were all okay... right?

The thoughts beginnning to evade again caused Irie to growl, even as a call rang out in the woods. “Rhys!  Rhys is that you?  Hey, wait up!” Her ears swivelled around to what she percieved was the source. Was she imagining that? No... she couldn't have. She did not recognize that voice, nor the name the lady - or so it sounded like - called out. Determination filling her heart and mind, she set off towards where she heard the call.

The girl wasn't that far away from Irie, so the wolf discovered after picking up a rather strong and real scent trail. "Hello?" she called softly, her voice holding a different accent than that of the girl. Even as she called out, she spotted the wolf. A beautiful, dark coat was marked with white markings, simple yet pretty. The yearling looked so sad, her ears folded back and her tail down. Sympathy softened Irie's heart, but the woman had always had a soft spot for younger wolves, especially pups and yearlings such as this.

"Are you alright, young one?" She couldn't exactly say little one, seeing as the wolf was quite a bit taller than her. She scented the air quietly, nostrils flaring as she picked up... only the stranger's scent. Oh no, poor dear... she must have seen a ghost. A deep sadness entered Irie's eyes as she regarded Dagmaer - of course she wasn't alright! Still, it was too late to retract the question. Oh, all Irie wanted to do was to comfort the poor child.


""

Still. The air hung still around her, devoid of sound and scent. Had her vision really just been a figment of her imagination? Well, it had been awhile since she’d eaten and she had been wandering for quite awhile. Maybe she was just exhausted. Dagmær spun around at the sound of approaching pawsteps, half expecting Rhys to be standing there. Maybe her friend was just sneaking up on her, testing her. She hoped the accent was just a game, a story of imagination and adventure and some how she’d be a puppy again with a friend and a family and… of course it wasn’t. She knew better than that. An older woman stood across from her, her body language gentle and meek as she asked if Dagmær was alright. “Yea… fine, just uh… thought I saw someone I used to know. It’s no big deal though. Probably just a bit dehydrated.” She shook her head. “Say, do you live here? I think I’ve gotten myself a bit turned around.” ""

Irie was beyond sympathetic - she felt for this young lady, whom just saw the ghost of her friend in these woods. Likely, she didn't realize what it was - and when Dagmaer answered her, she knew instantly that the girl had no idea what she had seen. It was definitely one of Irie's worst nightmares, to see the ghost of one of her kin, for she would know they were dead. The girl didn't know, but... she should know. "It is the belief of my people that if you see someone that is not here in these woods, that you are seeing their ghost," she spoke gently, ears flattening as she sighed. She certainly didn't want to be one to break that news. "It is why we often avoid these parts; we are fearful of learning that those we love might have passed." That was certainly true enough.

She nodded to the girl's question. While she didn't live here, she knew the area. "Yes - I'll take you out of these woods. Let's get you some food and water, alright? Is there any place you want to go? I've just about been all over, and I'll take you where you want to, okay?" Irie wasn't going to let the girl go without at least a good meal and a description. She'd rather accompany her, though. "Ah, yes. My name is Irie Diamachi. What's yours?"

""

Dagmær’s emerald eyes kept flitting back to the woods as if at any moment she might see her friend come emerging from the fog. She listened half-heartedly as the stranger mentioned the beliefs of her people. Dag frowned. Their…. ghost? She looked at the woman in confusion before it finally clicked what the other woman was trying to tell her. “NO! You…. that is silly. I didn’t see a ghost, there’s no such thing as ghosts. It was probably just…. a trick of the light!” She started to move away from the woman. It was ridiculous! As if the warrior princess would fall so easily. Ha! She wouldn’t…. she wouldn’t die…. she wouldn’t…. she wouldn’t. Dag had only taken a few steps before she found herself frozen in spinning thoughts of disbelief. She sat down heavily as the woman stated that she lived around here and could get her out of the woods. Dag nodded numbly and mumbled a thank you. “I don’t know… I just… I don’t know anything. Somewhere not dark and depressing.” She stood, eager to get out of this forest. “Hi Irie, sorry about… about yelling earlier but I just can’t believe Rhys would be gone. You don’t know her, what she’s like. I’m positive she’s alive, you know? I’m Dagmær Thyre.” ""

She was paying close attention to the young wolf, and when it hit the girl, Irie felt sympathy fill her heart. Oh, poor creature. She certainly hoped there were no such things as ghosts, but the stories her family told said otherwise - so she believed that Dagmær saw the ghost of her friend, and little would sway her from that belief. However, instead of insisting on that, she simply murmured, "Oh how I hope you are right, young one." Her heart just broke as she watched the girl try to leave, only to sit down with a thump instead.

Irie listened with compassion, and nodded in agreement. "I can do that," she agreed easily. That was her plan to begin with; someone so young had no business being in these woods, though it was surely an accident. She smiled as the girl went on to apologize. "It's alright, sweetie, don't worry about it. You're right, I don't know. She could very well be fine," Irie agreed quietly. She certainly hoped Dagmær's friend was still alive. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dagmær, though I wish in different circumstances. Now let's get out of here and get some food in you, okay?"

""

Dagmær kept her head down as they moved. She felt embarrassed for her earlier outburst but she didn't know what to do about it. She didn't want to think about the awful luck she was having with homes and friends lately, how she seemed to gain things only to loose them a moment later. Any more Dagmær was beginning to wonder if a stable life was possible. Was there even a point to it? It was fine though, really it was. She wanted to be a rogue anyway, who needed a pack? Not her! Not her… Dag hid a wince as she was addressed as 'sweetie'. She wasn't sure what to make of the ooey gooey nicknames… normally she'd hate them and tell Irie just want she thought of pet names for a mighty warrior but the little nicknames reminded her of her mother. Also, if Dagmær was honest with herself she didn't really want to be a warrior anymore. A hunter maybe, something different. She didn't want to be like her grandmother for whom she was named and she certainly didn't want to be like her father. It was becoming more and more clear to her each day that he simply wasn't interested in her. "Okay, food sounds good." ""