Mud Monsters and Pack ghosts

The tawny fae could only chuckle softly as Mort's face contorted into a grimace. So, that was a no-go on the bedtime stories, then. Fair fair, and in truth she wasn't altogether sure that her father was the type for fairy tales, as much as he loved his children. But Mal welcomed any and all stories, and as Mortis gave the idea a body, a life, she found herself nodding. They could each go one by one, weaving tales long into the night, surrounded by warmth and good food and pack. Suffice to say, she was pretty excited at the prospect.

At his following assertion, she rolled her eyes. "We'll see, we'll see." She was still learning the ropes to this whole Reaper thing, and she wasn't quite sure she wanted her first big meeting to be this... but Mortis had a point. Others were sure to attend.

"Hmmmm...." The Reaper assessed Mortis in mock-seriousness, before a grin broke over her features. She winked at him, lay her head along her paws once more. "I suppose a song will do."