Mud Monsters and Pack ghosts

Mal moving closer to him, made him feel protective of his friend. He took a single step forward. In the gesture, placing himself subtly between her and... the stranger. Wasnt a ghost, couldn't be. Ghosts where a joke, a trick between friends, and a spooky story around a campfire. His spine prickled, and his fur wouldnt lie flat. His companions hung close him, equally as unnerved. Mortis was the biggest wolf here, his fathers heir. He swallowed past a hard lump in his throat. He had to. He had to go forward.

Mal spoke, and the figure began to move. Mortis mentally echoed her profanities. He didnt have to be the bigger wolf, Mal moved first, and he hurried to keep pace with her. Scared or no, he wouldnt leave her to face it alone. They hurried to the spot it stood, and Mortis desperately searched for a trace. He was a decent tracker, but there wasn't a single scent to the earth. No evidance that something other then their pack had stood here recently.

Mal asked him a question, and he raised his head, ear raised, listening. 'Help me...'was that Asla? It sounded like a young girl, soft and whispery. None of the strength that would be in his sisters voiced. Still. "Asla!?" He howled, rushing forward without hesitation or care. "Asla!" He cried, trampling grass in his haste to find his sister.