Serpent Lake skin like daffodils

He’s hanging back. Feel free to skip if he goes unnoticed.

When the witch ventured beyond the borders that day, a ghost was there to trail after her. He kept away, leaving enough distance between them that he might go unnoticed without losing sight of her; it was easy to pick her out from the snowy backdrop, his eyes accustomed to finding pale creatures within the snow. Yet, he used the same camouflage to his own advantage, deciding from afar that she must be distracted enough to not seek him out—and why would she, anyways, when he had not actively announced himself to be there? He had become the phantom that he so closely resembled, after all, keeping more or less out of her sight. The only reason for his pursuit was a nagging interest in her that refused to leave him, drawing him forth to both see where she was stealing away to and question her—about several things, things that weighed on his mind late at night.

At some point, he’d lost track of her, needing then to use his nose to relocate her. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do, and he found her with relative ease, but the problems arose when he discovered her to not be alone. Ears swiveled forward atop his crown, listening in on their conversation as he settled back on his haunches a decent distance away, using their rocky surroundings to better shield himself from view. He had entered the conversation late, however, picking up only on Potema’s final words—which held his attention with a mighty grip. He assumed the darker wolf to have known Meldresi, given the context, for why else would she introduce herself as the daughter of the late queen unless the other was familiar with her? Interest piqued, he listened far more attentively after that, eager to learn more.