Avis had been following the long stretch of the river's from the east, she had been continuously heading west using the water way as a guide. It became a traveling friend of her, constant and consistent was the familiar streaming sound of water. Now ahead of her was a forest, the shade of the sequoia trees, ebbing a sort of red sap. The place was dark, shaded by the imposing mountains that saddled the sides of a rift that blotted out the moonlight. It seemed even the stars dared not appear in the sky.
In the shadows of the forest, Avis' eyes couldn't train back on the river or hear it; had the river disappeared?
Avis was beginning to think she was becoming lost. No matter, the sun will return by morning, and I will still know which way to go,
she assured herself openly, hoping no one heard her speaking to herself.
The darkness hummed in a way that almost suggested it was alive. The pallid specter moved through the bases of the trees on rickety limbs that appeared as though they scarcely held him aloft. The mad glint in his gaze darted from side to side in an attempt to drink in his surroundings. Even in the wild wood, Smokestep could feel that he had ventured too far from the water. The trench’s keeper was calling for him to return to her, but he did not go immediately. There was the faintest scent of a foreigner on the air. The pale creature trailed after it with little regard to his own wellbeing.
Ahead, he saw the figure of a slate and charcoal-cloaked figure. She moved with a peculiar purpose for someone who had never ventured into the heart of the dark wood before. Smokestep followed behind her as quietly as he could. His breath rattled from between his teeth in a sharp wheeze and his paws struck against the earth in a way that suggested he was surprised at how close it was. As he approached, he caught the tail end of what she had uttered to herself. A wicked smile creased his features and the mad beast laughed softly.
“Ye’d best hope so, lass… wouldn’t want to be lost in a place like this…”
It was something unexplained why creatures could often feel that they were being watched, a negging thought and a feeling of rushing blood flooding to the head, fur stood on Avis' neck and a shiver fell over her spine long. Avis stopped for a moment, snapped her head around quickly to find the source of uneasiness and listened. There was a heavy breath in the air and a bone chilling laughter, ears swiveled and perked up in alert to find the source and when her eyes caught the sight of a pale wolf the immediate thought was that she was seeing a ghost. She remained frozen in terror for a moment and an anxious hybrid of a growl and a whine rumbled in her throat.
Avis' rational mind was slowly taking over and what she saw was not some supernatural being, but simply another wolf. Simply because ghosts don't breathe... Probably.
Your words won't dissuade me,
she snapped back certain he was trying to haze her. Avis began to curl her lips in a smarmy grin, willing to entertain him. What lurks in the forest, then?
Ah, so she was good-humored enough to play along with his leading statement. She was even so charming as to flash the haggard fellow a smile. Once, Smokestep would have found such actions delightful. He would have quickly fallen into a smitten trope, as young men often did with confident women in their midst. For the pirate, having someone who was so willing to step into his stories was nice. He’d only had his sister for the last while, and her sense of humor had long since faded away. She did nothing but protect him. The pallid beast could not fault her for that, but there were pieces of her that he could recall – humor, wit, a sharp tongue that would lash at anyone – and he did not know how these pieces had vanished.
“Ye haven’t heard, eh? Ye ain’t safe anywhere here, lass. The keeper of the trench dwells in the sea and sends her servants to collect souls for her on land,” the haggard creature answered her in his raspy voice. She did not need to know that he was one of those servants; the most prized out of all of the trench keeper’s drudges. It was in this moment that the supposed hazing seemed to take a far more somber tone. The scoundrel’s mismatched gaze latched onto the sights of the woman across from him. His dark lips curled upward into a smile that did not seem to suit his features. Smokestep did not need to wonder if she believed him or not. He knew his word to be valid. In time, perhaps she would too.
The grey wolf's smirk slowly and subtly quivered into an anxious curl of the side of her mouth and her jaw tightened in forced silence, her yellow eyes darted quickly around in caution, eying the shadows of the forest and signs of such servants but eventually her eyes dropped to the floor. The drop of her head suggested that she was listening intently with her eyes casted down by her concerned brows. The pale wolf's words wormed its way into the travellers brain, striking at the soul's core and the haggard voice of the other accentuated the story, complimenting the grim tones. She attempted to shake the feeling away physically, head shuffled for just a second so she could hide her destroyed composure and rebuild her equilibrium.
When Avis did finally get the courage to look back at the stranger, it was... ghastly, her body was only just a pull of a hairtrigger away from running from the bleached spirit but she would remain, the drills she went through as an adolecent tampered such behaviour as a coward was often ranked as equal as being a traitor.
She drew out a withheld breath with a struggled attempt to hide a whimper. That's uh, that's a intense story,
she complimented casually and hoped that it would cut the tension, though the legend rummaged through her wracked brain so much that Avis hadn't realised the tremble in her voice. Mentally, Avis was assuring that she wasn't fazed by it but this self-assurance was a lie.
With every great story and legend there was at least a portion of truth.
You may have convinced me of your story,
she admitted quite openly, but I will still go through. If I wanted to remain safe I would have stayed at home. There is always danger.
All of her body language did nothing to assist Smokestep in understanding her discomfort. The lazy drooping of his gaze was latched to her features, though he did not register any emotional changes in what she responded to him with or how she had reacted to what he'd provided her. The pirate was merely a messenger on a dark task. He had work to complete before he would be set free by the keeper, and the girl who stood before him was a good chance at that freedom. The ghost did not wish to express this interest with her just yet, though. He felt as though he had only just hooked her attention.
The response that he received seemed as though it was an attempt at confidence. Smokestep laughed softly and shook his head. She would not understand why such murmurings were funny to him – not without having seen the deep dark of the water for herself. There was a shift in mindset when faced with the abyss. It was as though the entire body knew it would be the last thing that it saw, and that made for a daunting image.
“Bold,” he claimed in a sharp yap. Then, he moved an inch closer to her and leaned in with his yellowed teeth poking from beneath his lip. “Ye could serve her, ye know? If it is danger that ye seek...” the wild-eyed fellow attempted to entice her with his offer. The madness inside of him made for a poor salesman. There was really nothing about serving the keeper of the trench that should have inspired anyone to join such a cause. Smokestep was hoping that he had stumbled upon someone who was as brash as he had once been.