Ookey Spooky Creepy Crawly

*Milo* · 10-11-2020, 11:05 PM

Milo took note of the apprehension in the young female's eyes and made a mental note to try not to scare her too badly. After all, she had been nothing but kind and welcoming to him, the least he could do was not scare the living daylights out of her. He had heard many tales from wolves throughout his travels, some more farfetched than others, some mild and some downright terrifying. They seemed like the perfect selection for an evening around a crackling campfire. He pursed his lips and tapped his chin with a paw as he mulled over which story he wanted to tell her. After a brief moment of debate, his eyes lit up as he selected one. "All right, but just tell me if you get too scared. I don't want this to be traumatic for you," he said with a soft chuckle. "Listen closely, Nausicaa, because I'm going to tell you the legend of the fleshgaits. I've heard this story told by several different tribes of wolves far beyond the borders of Boreas, in cold, barren lands where snow is more common than grass. Despite the differences between these wolves, the story has always remained the same, which means it's either been told very well, or it's entirely true..." Milo started to grin a wicked grin, then broke character as he realized he'd forgotten something.

"Oh, wait, I almost forgot!" He reached into his messenger bag, producing the pieces of driftwood he had acquired earlier. He held up two of the larger pieces, giving them a sniff and was rewarded with a strong scent of salt. "Have you ever seen what happens when driftwood burns?" he asked her, then tossed the two pieces on top of the fire. The campfire sparked and crackled violently for a moment, then the flames burst into bright blues and purples, a chemical reaction to the salt and calcium in the saltwater-soaked wood. Their little campsite was suddenly engulfed in an ethereal blue light from the fire, adding to the atmosphere Milo was trying to create. "There we go, perfect! Now where was I...?"

"Far away from here there lived a small family of wolves out in a dense forest. The family was otherwise normal: a father, a mother, and three young pups. They lived normal lives on their own in a large den with multiple rooms; in the summer the pups would play in the nearby stream, and when winter came they would bound through the snow. But one cold winter's night, something woke one of the pups from a deep sleep. As the pup stirred, he realized it was the sound of his father's voice, calling to him. Confused, the pup got up and went to look around for his parents in the next room over. But as the pup passed by the entrance of their den, they heard their father's voice call again—from outside the den." Milo paused for a brief moment to put another piece of driftwood on the fire to keep the blue flames burning when they started to turn orange again. "Very confused, the pup called back for his father, inching close and closer to the mouth of the den. He could feel the icy cold air rushing by just outside and he could see the heavy snowfall. Why would his father be outside in this weather in the middle of the night? Maybe he had gotten hurt or needed his help for something. Again, the pup heard his father's voice calling and beckoning to him, urging him to come outside. Just as the young pup neared the entrance, he heard another voice behind him. "Son...? What are you doing out of bed...?" It was his mother, groggy and confused as she approached him. "Dad's calling for me outside," the pup replied. "I think he needs help." The mother stared at her son, bewildered and perplexed. "Your father's sleeping in bed. What are you talking about?" she explained. Before the pup could explain further, a strange, shrill shriek tore through the silence outside, followed by the stamping of heavy feet. The mother rushed to pull her child back into the den, staring in horror at the darkness outside as she screamed for her mate. The father rushed to her aid, hurrying outside to face the threat... only to find nothing but darkness and snow. There was nothing there..."

Milo grinned again as he took in all of Nausicaa's facial expressions as he told her the story, using her reactions to gauge how well he was doing and to make sure he wasn't spooking her too badly. "What the father did see though was a trail on prints the likes he had never seen before, circling the den, and then running off into the darkness. What was strange about these prints though, was that they began like normal wolf prints, then became something... unnatural. More disturbingly yet, those wolf prints perfectly matched his. Terrified, the family all slept together that night with the father staying up on guard duty. When morning finally came, the mother decided to go enlist the help of a nearby tribe of wolves for protection. She left her family in the care of her mate and set off. She did eventually find the tribe and explained what had happened to her family the night before. Concerned, several of the tribe's warriors escorted her back to her den to investigate. But when they got there..." Milo paused, holding his breath while the blue flames cast deeper shadows across his face. "...there was nobody there... Her family—her mate, her children—had all simply vanished. There was no scent trail, no paw prints in the snow, nothing for them to follow. They were simply gone. Despite a desperate search, the family was never seen again. Heartbroken and with nothing left, the mother returned to the tribe with the warriors. What was she supposed to do now? Her family was gone, and they had no way to begin to find them. She didn't even have the slightest clue what might have happened to them. Well, she didn't have to wonder for long... because a few nights later, on another dark, snowy night, she heard her son's voice calling out to her from the darkness, beckoning her to come back into that forest..."

The driftwood was finally beginning to burn out, the normal orange color of the fire returning to bathe them in its comforting light. Milo prodded at the fire with the stick, flaring up a few lingering blue embers in the flames. "No one really knows what a fleshgait is, you see. The common thread in all their stories is this: they are unnatural, paranormal creatures that feed on any living being, be it hare or bear or anything in between. No one knows what they truly look like, because they have the most effective hunting methods. A fleshgait takes on the form and voice of another creature, like a shapeshifter, and use their disguise to lure out their victims. Often, they will choose to mimic loved ones or friends, although they can never do it perfectly, often using only a few lines of speech they may have overheard. Once a fleshgait gets you alone, however..." Milo chuckled a dark chuckle. "The scariest thing is that unless you know how to identify one, you could never tell who or what is a fleshgait, hunting you from plain sight... It could be your best friend, your significant other, a pack mate, a family member..." Milo locked his gaze on Nausicaa's, leaning slowly closer to her as he spoke. "...It could even be me... BOO!" He punctuated his last scare with a quick, playful jab at her side with his paw, hoping she had been too engrossed in his story to notice him trying to startle her as he laughed in a humored, good-natured manner, secretly praying he hadn't scared her too much.

"Speech" — Thoughts

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