Mud Monsters and Pack ghosts

Mal's ears flickered as Mort began to sing, roughly at first, but settling into something smooth and sweet. She'd never have guessed the boy could sing, and it was a pleasing thing to hear. Remembering his earlier comment, she grinned, eyes closed. "You're not so bad yourself," she murmured. It wasn't long until her breath evened out, and all awareness began to fade away. She thought she could feel something heavy and warm envelope her, but she didn't linger on it. A dreamless sleep washed over her, and for the first time in a while, her slumber wasn't so restless.

...

The sky was painted with tones of pink and orange when she opened her eyes again. She lifted her head, tongue lolling freely as her jaws stretched widely in a yawn. She glanced over at Mortis, who'd since fallen asleep himself. The firepit was a pile of ash and coals, the smoke long since gone. Mal slipped out from under the ox pelt, and padded over to softly nudge the top of Mortis' head with her nose. "Hey." Her voice was gentle, barely loud enough to rouse him. "Hey. We should probably get back." She figured that they should get back to their own dens.

Hanging out here had been nice, and different, but the rabbit furs of her own den were calling out to her. Mal would probably rest for another hour or so before getting on with her duties.