Mud Monsters and Pack ghosts

"...I did," she confirmed. "All of it." Though a part of her wished she hadn't. The feeling of being watched seemed to be gone for good, but the blood was still roaring in her ears.

They might not let you leave.

The two wolves would try to, anyway. Mal was grateful for the comfort of Mortis' wing, if a little embarrassed at needed that assurance. She felt like a pup again, huddling closer against her mother's belly as she listened, enraptured and terrified, to the ghost story. Still, she did not move from his side as they parted the grasses in silence.

The walk through the long grass seemed to take weeks, but eventually, the growth receded, and they made their way back to the campsite, decidedly in the clear. Mal suddenly collapsed onto her side before the fire pit, with a thump of her tail. Her laughter was genuine this time, a wondrous thing. "Oh my gods...." What the hell was that? A hallucination? A real ghost? She didn't know or care at the moment. She was grateful that they were safe.