After Naiche's passing, Satira had done all that she could to comfort her heartbroken brother. Arcturus was a mess, and though Tira seen the horrors he had or lost a blood parent of her own, her little heart ached for Naiche's loss. The golden-furred man had always been kind to her, treating her as if she were his own, and just knowing how much it broke her beloved brother down crushed her. All her efforts left Satira more than exhausted by the end of each day. All she could hope was that she was making a little positive impact on Arc's life. After spending an evening watching the strange blue fireflies outside with her brother, Satira returned to snuggle up with him in their familial den, falling asleep quickly and easily.

As soon as slumber claimed her mind, the darkness in her mind gave way to brightness, and Satira found her eyes opening to warm sunlight. Around her, the vibrant colors of autumn foliage surrounded the empty space. She was standing on lush grass, yet a dense fog prevented her from seeing more than a few feet in either direction. It was as if she were in the real world, and yet somewhere ethereal all at the same time. Was this a dream?

"Satira Fatalis"

It was as if fog took wolven form.  It was as if part of the fog itself took on the shape of the wolf and as he stood next to Satira the fog took on more precise details then fur until it was Naiche standing before Satira.  There were many times the golden wolf had felt jealousy both the children weren’t his.  There had been no denying the bloodlines on either one of them though. Naiche felt more peace in death than he ever had in life.  The goals and necessary responsibilities felt in the living world had been removed from his shoulders.  In this land, he was free of any burdens except perhaps for the remaining diluted emotions he felt towards his family.  He didn’t feel the overwhelming heartache but the sense of their loss weighed a bit on his soul.   “Satira,” A simple name to start the conversation, to perhaps help bring some reality to it, or however much a world in her dreams could have?  Naiche had no clue how things were supposed to work here or what allowed him to visit, only that she was here and he was here. “So many times I wish you had been mine,” Naiche stretched his neck out a bit, a lick to her ear, the touch of it as real as it would feel in the living world.  How could it not be real here as well? "Naiche"

Before her very eyes, Satira watched the fog draw closer to her, yet she felt no fear from it. It took shape, forming into a wolf and transforming gradually into the golden-furred sire of her brother. Naiche stood proudly before her, as real as if she was looking at him any of the times he had come to visit them. Tira's breath caught in a gasp, pale blue eyes peering up at the man she knew to be dead. Yet here he was! He spoke her name, and the familiarity of his voice hit her heart like a sucker punch. Then he said how he wished she'd been his and placed a lick upon one flopped over ear. Even his touch felt real! But how was this possible? Where was she? There could be only one logical explanation...

"Naiche," she began, looking up at him with worried eyes. "Am... Am I dead too?" She couldn't be dead yet; she still had so much life left to live! She couldn't leave her brother behind too, or her mother and father! But then, how else could she be seeing him right now? Naiche was dead, so if she was seeing him, she had to be dead too, right? Another question raised in her mind, and Tira took a trepidatious step toward the ghost of her brother's father. "Did you really wish that? Why?"

"Satira Fatalis"