The mishevious Kea chuckled softly as she got the wolf, and then hopped up, fluttering her wings enough to sit on Morts back. With the leopard at his side, he followed Malalia back to the fire. He was dry now, both fro. The fire and the moving about he had done. It was good not to feel chilled to his bones. He could have snuck back into his family's den at the obsene hour, but Malalia showed no signs of heading home.

Instead, she curled up by the fire, and he did so too. Placing himself beside her and in front of the flames. If he stretched out, he could reach her stomach with his toes. Instead, he tucked them up, and already out his wings, draping the ends over Malalia, an invitation for her to use them as bedding if she wished. His kea curled up behind his ear, and the leopard on his other side. The cat was tucked tightly under the wing with just his head sticking out.
Set just so, the young wolf smiled, and cushioned his head on his paw, closing his eyes. Malalia was his greatest friend in all the worlds, and he had spent the day in laughter and her company. He could ask for nothing better.

Mal breathed softly at the invitation, but took it anyway, glad for the warmth. She looked into the fire, and quietly began a song. It was a plains tune about the rain, one that her aunt had sung to her occasionally when the woman put them to bed. It had words, but she merely hummed it in mellow and lilting tones, punctuated there and again by an occasional yawn.

A few months ago, she would've never have guessed she'd end up in a pack at all, and much less make such a close friend. Between the work, the near-constant training... this, this friendship she'd made with this winged boy, it settled a little something within her. The tune faded along with her consciousness, the fire crackling steadily before the wolves and their companions....

Hours later, she awoke with a start. The fire had gone out, a thin trail of smoke twirling up from the blinking embers. Her jaws stretched wide in a yawn that ended in a sudden shiver. Mal carefully removed herself from Mort's wings with the intention of putting another log in the fire, when the hackles began to ripple, unbidden, along her scruff. She felt... weird. As if she were being watched.

Pausing, Mal swiveled her head in the darkness, eyes going wide. There, in the distance, as real as flesh and bone, it seemed, the silhouette of a wolf stood in the long grass. Backlit by the moon, it was too dark to make out anything besides their outline. The wind, it seemed, carried the scent of deep earth, and blood her way. "Mort?" Her voice was strained, her body stiff, but she didn't dare look away. "Mortis!"

"Speech"

He settled into the rhymths of sleep, letting the crackling of the fire and soft rustle of nocturnal critters lull him. Before he could drift off, he heard Malalia begin her song. Her soft voice lifting out into the night in the gentlest of hums. He cracked open an eye and looked to her, nestled beneath his wing, and gave her a sleepy smile. "You have the loveliest voice" he whispered, more asleep then awake at that point.

He must have fallen to sleep before she could even respond, pulled down into dreams. They might have been nightmares after their ghost stories, but the memory of her song chased them away and brought something gentler to his dreams.

An unknown time later, he was partly woken by the feeling of movement along his feather. He didnt bother fully waking as she gently moved free of his wing. He would have fallen fully back to sleep if her voice hadnt pulled him to wakefulness. He jerked upright, almost knocking Saph free of her bedtime perch. "Hhhuuuh?" He asked, or had her words been a dream? No, there she was, looking to something in the long grass. He turned, following her gaze, and stilled. His own hackles rose, and he growled softly, coming to his feet. His leopard and kea wole at that point, hugging tightly to his side and ear. "...Mel?"

The sleepiness that weighed her down, the darkness, the vagueness of the figure, the ghost stories in the back of her mind... made it really, really hard for to believe it wasn't a ghost. That's ridiculous, of course it isn't.... And yet her pounding heart told a different story. Unconsciously, she moved just an inch closer to her winged friend, ears plastered to her skull. "We... we need to check it out," she whispered. Easier said than done. The words had been said, but her paws were firmly planted on the floor. She swallowed thickly, before raising her muzzle, and calling out, "Who are you?"

The figure was still. Then it turned away, going deeper into the long grass. Shit!

This was bad.

But, ghost or no ghost, they couldn't have an intruder on their territory. So she stepped forward, one step at a time, before she was pacing quickly after them and heading into the grass herself. Her eyes skirted the floor for pawprints, nose in the air.... but she found nothing. Not a trace. Not anything that she could tether to a single, identifiable person. Only the general, subtle scent of blood and earth and decay. She'd expected Mortis to follow, and called out to him now. "Can you sense anything?"

The wind blew, then, rustling the grass. It sounded, strangely, like whispers. If she strained her ears, a faint help me could be heard, and Mal's heart plummeted to her stomach. Maybe she was just imagining it. "Did you hear that?"

"Speech"

Edited cause I changed course but left in sentence lol

Mal moving closer to him, made him feel protective of his friend. He took a single step forward. In the gesture, placing himself subtly between her and... the stranger. Wasnt a ghost, couldn't be. Ghosts where a joke, a trick between friends, and a spooky story around a campfire. His spine prickled, and his fur wouldnt lie flat. His companions hung close him, equally as unnerved. Mortis was the biggest wolf here, his fathers heir. He swallowed past a hard lump in his throat. He had to. He had to go forward.

Mal spoke, and the figure began to move. Mortis mentally echoed her profanities. He didnt have to be the bigger wolf, Mal moved first, and he hurried to keep pace with her. Scared or no, he wouldnt leave her to face it alone. They hurried to the spot it stood, and Mortis desperately searched for a trace. He was a decent tracker, but there wasn't a single scent to the earth. No evidance that something other then their pack had stood here recently.

Mal asked him a question, and he raised his head, ear raised, listening. 'Help me...'was that Asla? It sounded like a young girl, soft and whispery. None of the strength that would be in his sisters voiced. Still. "Asla!?" He howled, rushing forward without hesitation or care. "Asla!" He cried, trampling grass in his haste to find his sister.

Jeez... Malalia ran after the boy, ears flattened as they bundled through the grasses. Maybe the girl had been watching them, and gotten into some sort of trouble in the meantime. What if it really was Asla? But then... how could it have been? There'd been no trace of her -- no trace of anyone there. Whoever... whatever it was, they still had to find her.

Suddenly the grasses receded, and they came to a small clearing, the undergrowth replaced with mud and sand. The figure had reappeared, then, in the middle of the patch of earth, enshrouded in moonlight. Mal barreled forward, the dirt flying beneath her paws. Fear fueled her as much as determination. She'd let the wolf get away the first time, and she wouldn't let them get away again.

Even as she ran, a cold shiver passed through her as she hit pure air, rather than solid flesh and bone.

Malalia wheeled around, a cry of disbelief on her lips.... but then stood stock still. The figure was gone. Only rustle of the grass remained, and the hum of the night around them.

"Speech"

Mortis followed a mad dash in the general direction of the whisper, even when he lost the trail of that voice he continued on. He was a little surprised that Malalia managed to keep pace with him. Even with her help, they found no trace of his sister. Maybe it hadnt been her voice. Maybe it had been no voice at all... but Mal had heard it too, right? He shivered when he pushed free of the grass and earth became sand beneath his feet.

Mal saw the figure before he did. She leaped at him, and the boy gasped in shock. "-Mal!" But it was too late she was pouncing... thin air. Right before his eyes the creature vanished. Impossible. I try impossible. He padded over to Mal, no scent, no prints. Nothing could walk the sand and leave it bare, but this creature had. If he was alone he might think it nothing but his imagination. Experimentally, he poked his friend, and the paw sank into fur and skin. Real. Not a dream.

Together, they looked about the night, for the moment the sensation of eyes was gone. No trace, not even a feeling, to mark the passing of what had been.
'You tell yourself as you continue through
"Its merely the rustling of the leaves,"
But they see you, and they hear you,
And they might not let you leave.'
He whispered, ever so softly, curling into his friends side, his wings down, as he huddled against her.

Mal let loose a shuddering laugh when Mortis poked her, making sure that she was real. It wasn't a dream... but some part of her wished that it was. Maybe.... maybe they'd caught something in the mud. Maybe they were just... tired. Sorry explanations they were, for if they were awake, there existed no plausible explanation for what she'd seen. For what they both had witnessed that night.

The feeling of being watched lifted for a moment, though that did nothing to ease her spirits. Especially when Mort repeated the lines from his story. She narrowed her eyes at him -- was he trying to creep her out even more? But, slowly, she lifted her gaze and looked around. It was just too similar to whatever they found themselves in, now.

She blinked into the wind, watching the grass undulate around them. "I'm... I'm sorry," she offered, suddenly, to the air. We can't help you. She let the words skin in. Then, Malalia then turned to Mortis. "Might," was the only word she said, before making their way back, pressing back at Mortis' side.


"Speech"

Her laughter would have warmed the air, if it wasnt for the shuddering touch to it. The uncertain, the nerves. Mort forced out a soft chuckle of his own, as through they were just a bunch of kids, scaring each other. It was better then thinking they had either lost the plot, or touched a world they should never have known. He wanted to go back to the innocence of a day ago. He no longer held steel certainty in his reality. "You did... you did see all that, right?" He whispered, even knowing she had. He wanted to hear her say it.

He flinched when she raised her voice, speaking as theough to another. Speaking to the phantom that had haunted them this night. She spoke as though it was a lost soul, that the call for help had been from it, and an honest plea. He supposed it hadnt felt sinister, even if it had creeped them both the hell out. "Might." He repeated back to her, voice a mutter. If it lifted a finger against them, Mort was fighting for his friend. Trying not to look as through it was he who needed the comfort, he stayed pressed against her side, unsquishing his wing and folding it over her. Protection and comfort both, as he walked closely side by side with her.

"...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.

Malalia pushed him a way a lot, turning a hug into a play fight, or a brief thing. His closest friend allowed the comfort this time, and he knew her to be rattled. He kept the touch of his feathers over her soft and light, an easy thing to pull out of when she pleased. He matched his pace to the smaller wolf with ease, and the tel of then traversed the long grass.

Now that it wasnt a headlong dash, it was unnerving, dark and mysterious. The only blessing was the lack of eyes he felt over him. He didnt know why the... ghost? Had led then to the beach. He was determined to explore that very spot on the 'morrow.

They made it to the campfire in one piece. Perhaps Mals words had softened it. Perhaps it had never existed, it was hard to tell now that it was gone. When Mal collapsed, he pushed some more wood into the fire, getting a merry blaze going. With the camp lit bh the flames, he felt a little better. He collapsed beside Mal, offering a soft laugh of his own, nervous at first, and then boisterous as it grew. It was the laughter of survival, of disbelief tinged with doubt. It was genuine, and matched Mal for strength. "Oh, ghee whizz. I've never... let's not tell ghost stories at night again" he joked.

She exhaled lowly as their laughter began to subside. "Agreed," she muttered. She sighed as Mortis started up the fire again, grateful for the warmth and the light of the flames. Absently, she wondered if they would be safer in their own dens... but the girl got the feeling that they wouldn't be disturbed again that night. Besides, she didn't particularly feel like being alone after the experience.

Once Mortis settled down, Malalia flipped over to lay on her opposite side, facing him with twitching ears. "Y'know, I almost would've taken the cow pie over this," she murmured, a slight smirk on her lips as she remembered their antics beneath the willows. Next time they played, she would win for sure. "Tonight was pretty fun. Besides our, uh... visitor..." She reached out to poke his elbow. Thank gods that was over. And thank them, too, that she was exhausted, or else she might never get another lick of sleep that night.

Mortis snorted softly at her words. Now that the excitement was over, and he had a warm fire and friendship beside him, he wasnt so sure. He could laugh it off now. And he wouldn't have traded the fun they had had for the world. He had only joked about the ghost stories, telling them had been an adventure all on it's own.

"Tonight was amazing, best camp night ever." He agreed. He felt like a different person in Mals company, every moment was an adventure. Nothing felt like a chore, or a difficulty. It was a challange, a and fun. He enjoyed every moment of it.

He nudged his elbow against her paw in a return gesture. He was no longer sleepy, thought he couldnt have gotten much shut-eye. He felt energized by the night. He poked a stick at the flames, collapsing some cinders and sparking up a better flame. "We should roll up some beds. Stick them in a cover, oil it for water protection, then we can just roll them out by the fire whenever we please." His parents didnt give him a curfew, they trusted in him. Evey night she pleased could be like this, laughter and fun by the fire.

Her eyes were blinking slowly as he talked of rolling up some beds for future nights. It sounded like a good idea, to be honest. For later. Mort may have been energized, but chaos like this usually sucked the energy out of her, afterwards. Oh, sure, she could tackle a potential ghost head on, but you could be sure as anything that she'd be dead asleep afterwards.

Idly, she wondered if there was such a thing as the opposite of ghost stories. Something to make her feel calmer. But I guess that's what singing and lavender are for. She certainly wasn't opposed to hearing another ghost story, though. Far, farrrrrrrr in the future, when their adventure in the long grass was a distant memory. Wordlessly, yawning, she nodded in agreement at Mort's plan. He could probably get her up and running again, if he was insistent about it, but she did want to rest her eyes for a moment, let her heart take a few beats to fully settle. If not, though, she was heading straight for sleep.

He grinned as he watched his friend go down the opposite path to himself. For him, sleep would be impossible. He still had adrenaline running in his veins. The memory of the ghost behind his eyes. He looked back to Mal, and saw her sleepy form, through she wasnt put just yet. Perhaps she was still, like him, unnerved by the events. Remembering her gentle hum earlier and how it had eased him, he cleared his throat. He had never sung before in his life. He had heard a few songs, one in particular he remembered from his mothers lips. It started out rough and husky, before smoothing into something soft and sweet. His singing was barely a whisper, but he discovered he could hold a tune without someone needing to cover their ears. "As you go through life you'll see there is so much that we Don't understand And the only thing we know Is things don't always go the way we planned.

"But you see everyday that we'll never turn away, When it seems all your dreams come undone We will stand by your side
Filled with hope and filled with pride.."

He continued on, voice as soft as he could make it, until he believed Mals breathing had evened out. When he believed her asleep, he rose with a soft groan, stretching out his muscles. He was young, but he had also been up for most of the night, and had been chilled to the bone for a chunk of it. Walking in a tired, uneven path, he made it to the packs called. Luckily it lay very close to the firepit. He pulled open the door, grabbed out a thick ox coat, and returned to the girl. He lay it gently over her prone figure, tucking in her paws. That done, he say by the fire, occasionally feeling it fuel, and watching the stars. A content smile gracing his lips, and every now and then he hummed to a tune.

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.

Mortis never did find sleep after the ghost, but when the first rays of light had begun to break the night, he stopped feeding the fire. He let it die out, and settled down to lie restlessly across the flattened grass, giving his companion her space. She seemed to have slept well, despite their excitement. When she did rise, he looked over at her sleepily, yawning widely and stretching with a sigh. Perhaps staying awake the whole night had been a mistake, but he hadn’t been able to fathom sleep. He stopped his gentle humming, his throat parched. Now that day was beginning, he wondered if he would be able to slip in any shut-eye or if he would be awake all day again before he could find sleep. “I’ll ghush wak’ ‘em if I crawl in now” he mumbled, another yawn cutting through his words. He shook his head to clear it. “Might grab something to drink then see what sleep I can get” he said. If she wanted to go back to her own den, he could walk her there, and then head to the stream. After that, he could go back to the fire or find a nice empty hole to curl up. At least he wasn’t scheduled for any early morning patrols today. A small blessing. "Mortis"

That was true enough, she supposed, nodding in agreement. She'd briefly forgotten that Mortis still denned with his family. She'd have been doing the same, around this time. Mal pushed the thought away, and instead chuckled briefly at his tired yawn, wondering if he'd actually gotten a wink of sleep that night. It seemed they'd had differing inclinations post their little ghost sighting, but Mal couldn't blame him if he had stayed up. She might've done the same had she not been so exhausted -- if nothing else, than just to make sure nothing else strange appeared in the night.

Taking a quick moment to return the ox pelt, she loped back over to the firepit and waved her tail at Mort -- a goodbye or an invitation, depending on whether he followed her or not. Her den wasn't too far away after all, lying on the west side of the pond. If he did tag along, she'd bump his shoulder in farewell, once they made their way over there. It was still nothing more than a little hill with an entrance, but she'd gradually expanded the inner chambers over time. Malalia ducked inside and curled up on the furs, releasing a soft, tired sigh.


"Speech"

Mortis, still yawning, followed after his friend. With every step he regretted staying awake the whole night. He had had thoughts to head over to that clearing they had last seen it. To look for any possible evidence in the daylight. He realised that wasn’t going to be happening any time soon. He stopped outside her den, and she bumped her shoulder to his. He grinned at her, and gave her a nudge with a wing. He waited until she had gone outside, and then turned around. He looked bleary eyed out into the grasses, up at the sky, and another yawn split his muzzle, huge, and long. He blinked again, and the world tipped a little. He took a step, and almost fell over. He had been awake much too long with much too much excitement. Giving up, he sank to his stomach on the grass and faint snow not far from her den entrance at all. There, he closed his eyes, ignoring the cold entirely, and fell - this time- instantly into a sleep. "Mortis"

Her dreams were filled with ghost girls and seas of long grass. Mal twitched in her sleep, softly whining there and again before settling into a deep silence. She was simply too exhausted to wake entirely, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be plagued with nightmarish visions. Luckily, she didn't often remember her dreams when she woke, fleeting as they were.

By the time she woke again, the winter sun was well along its westward path, beating down on the grasslands without a single cloud to mar its shine. Malalia blinked her eyes open. She yawned, turned her face away from the sunlight streaming through the entrance. She hadn't even made it two feet into her den before collapsing. With a forepaw, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, smacking her lips as she turned to exit the den and start her day.

She couldn't help but blink once, then twice as she poke her head out of the exit, tilting her head in amusement at the winged boy who'd collapsed a mere couple of steps from her doorway. Flicking her ears, she padded up to the boy, attempting to nudge his shoulder if he was still asleep. "I'm not sure how comfortable a bed of snow can be," she commented, half to herself.


"Speech"