The Golden Ghost escaped the clutches of the dark woods, their safety the only thing that had calmed him down for as long as he had been there. But there was little to hunt anymore, his scent so prominent that it sent critters running before he even got the chance to spot them. Staying in his bubble would not help him anymore. He had to move if he wished to survive. He had to move if he were to find home before winter.

The summer sun danced upon his bleak coat, rings of the same golden hue around his pupils, looking about for anything out of the ordinary. He recognized these lands from his time living in Easthollow. He had hunted a lot for the pack back then. For his friends... How he missed them. Though he couldn't tell them, he deeply valued the friendships he had build with them, but his wanderings and curiosity had led him astray. Now he couldn't find them anymore. Would they even recognize me? I am such a ghost. Invisible, invisible.

When he spotted water, his first instinct was to go and have a drink. Though the woods had some bodies of water, they were few and far between and he had always liked running streams and rivers better. He dipped his muzzle gracefully in the water, slurping it in instead of licking it up. Licking up water was quite hard without a tongue in one's mouth, but Calloon had learned to live with it. When he lifted his gaze, he spotted the female. Apparently the ghost wasn't so invisible as he felt and with a lowered tail he backed off a few steps.

Thought the female, too, sported a lighter coat, they were very different. His smaller frame and lack of muscles made him look almost more feminine than her. Not that he very much minded. He had never been and would never be a jealous creature. He was perfectly content the way he was, even with his scars and inability to speak. She had spotted him before he had her, and as she came closer he shrunk even more. I mean no harm. Why are strangers so set on coming closer. Afraid - confusing.

He had come from the North and had therefore not crossed their territory. If he had, it would've sent him fleeing in the opposite direction. The female, upon closer inspection, did carry the scent of others. Not Easthollow's, but still. Any home was good, for now. Perhaps he'd find his own someday. He simply couldn't live by himself anymore anyway. He was far too weak and humble to assert himself when it mattered. He whined at her question, slightly shaking his head. Am I lying now? Really? But I am truthful...

He pawed at the stream's bank. He had come here for a drink, he tried to make clear.

Calloon was anything but a fighter. He was a coward, he found, even though he was physically not very able to fight off anyone. He would've been killed a long time ago had he not joined his home, and he feared that he would be in the same dangerous position if he stayed a loner throughout the last bits of summer. To her question, he shrugged casually, hopefully confirming her suspicions.

He whined softly then with a questioning look on his face, nosing the air in front of the stranger. Where did you come from? You smell like others.

Calloon, who went by many names, had always had his ways of getting into someone's thoughts and heart. The ghost was an interesting creature, though he dismissed this fact himself, full of compassion and justice. True of soul and pure of heart, he listened intently to the white beauty's words and as the word "pack" left her lips he knew The Wise Ones up above had planned another adventure for him. Apparently he did not belong to Easthollow after all, but with the warm-eyed female on the Glacier of the South she spoke of.

He pressed further - big, round eyes with the sparkling ring of gold glistening in the summer sun. It was easy to see he was hungry for more information and interested in what she wanted to tell.

She spoke many words, half of which he didn't understand, but at least he got an answer for his silent request. And not only from the lady of the South! Also from The Wise Ones, his Gods, that had planned his life before he was given life and form. They had answered his prayers for a home to belong to by bringing him to the snowy wolf with her setting sun eyes.

Calloon was only mentally strong. He could hunt and didn't stumble or fall all the time, but his nimble form, as fast as it might make him, was fragile, feminine and unstable. Still, The Ghost nodded his whitened head without hesitation, wiggling his grey tail behind his scarred butt. He wanted to join her, that much was certain.