Blackfeather Woods champagne, cocaine, gasoline

The new wolf was fascinating because the lines etched along his body told so many stories that she longed to find out about, though the pale child had interacted with him only little so far. She was often distracted with, well, who knew what? Often she found herself wandering through the woods following all the little voices, the dark faeries, the altars, the connections, the spirits. She was a spirit, after all, so she was connected in many ways with the other spirits that lingered the dark woods. But today the spirits did not lead her onto adventures of her own, onto trees or altars or artefacts...

... Today, they lead her to him. Large ears cupped forward as she looked at the scarred male's back. She instantly recognised him, and duck low so that he would not see her in case he had heard her. Yet he seemed mesmerised by something or other, just staring, staring... Did he see the spirits too? Did they reach out to him? Were they reaching out to him this very moment?

Do it, just do it! they encouraged in their jester-like behaviour and a toothy grin appeared on the ghost's face as she snuck a little closer. Just a tiny bit, before she started to run towards him and pounced at his back to hone her sneaky and fighty skills with a loud "Raaaawr!"