Mud Monsters and Pack ghosts

*Mortis* · 05-26-2020, 02:58 AM

The boy settled in comfortably, wiggled in the earth by the fire, and feeling the heat toast and dry his damp fur. He shuffled a little closer, ignoring the sensation of the heat as it wiggled beneath his fur. He would have to move back soon, or it would start to grow uncomfortable. For the moment, he was only happy he could be warm.

He looked across the dancing amber tones to find Malalia’s eyes, and listen as she began her tale. Her humming was comforting, and he found himself picking up the tune softly as he gave her time to think. He had put her on the spot, after all. Patience was a virtue.

The crackle of the fire, and the gentle hum of two different voices began the night, and then her story would follow. She spoke of the birth of a girl, and the pack she lived in. Mal spoke of the dead that followed in this girl's wake, like some sort of blessing… or curse. He remembered once more the dead bird he had found as a child. He imagined that tenfold, and shuddered. A hunter he might wish to be, but death to trail him? A curse for sure. He looked to the fire, and then to Malalia, wrapped up in her story. “What happened next?” he whispered.

"Mortis"

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