Father and daughter

Lucky for them both, her mother had made a point to have "the talk" with Malalia as soon as she was old enough to ask about it, and understand. She was always candid with her daughter. Mal had of course picked up other things from the older girls in her pack, too, so she knew just about everything she needed to. Thank goodness she did, or the direction of this conversation might've made her spontaneously combust with awkwardness/embarrassment. Sheesh.

Ghosts were better. Ghosts were good. Malalia found herself easily agreeing with Sirius, to a degree. She hadn't disbelieved in spirits, up until her encounter with Mortis. They simply hadn't been an aspect of her world until, suddenly, they were. The physicality of them was less of an obstacle to her, though -- the wind was intangible, for example. You couldn't touch it, track it, hold in your paws, but you could still feel it. Ghosts were much in the same way, if the stories and her own experiences were to be believed.

Naturally, the thought caused her ears to plane backwards. The only reason she missed the memories passing behind Sirius' eyes, was because she was thinking of her own. If one ghost was real, did that mean everyone turned into one, when they died? Were her mother and her littermates doomed to walk the earth, lonely as the ghost in the grass? She shuddered at the thought.