she balances upon a thin precipice. to her back twirls the present in her frivolous display of startling vibrance, and before her lingers the slumbering past; unperturbed until this very moment as minute paws press against the very blades of grass that had once stood tall and adorned in the scent of swiftcurrent creek. 

"i'm home!" she declares with inadvertent vigour, as if challenging the frisky breeze to suggest that this place was no such thing. the french loiters sourly upon her tongue and she is quite suddenly convinced that the twisting air's whistles take the form of a smug snigger at such a ridiculous notion as to hope fruitlessly to hear her announcement returned by another. shoulders sag as she rattles a hasty inhale, quite suddenly grasped with the cowardly desire to flee away from this gateway and all its hungering ghosts. to this day all of her memories of swiftcurrent creek are of a time of unruffled bliss, a constant refuge for her mind to retreat to when all else seemed to be falling apart quicker than she could put it back together. if she ventured forth, she was risking replacing these images of radiant life with the stark truth of the corpse of her home. but...she does not turn away. 

for this is not her home, there truly is a place of vivacious tranquility that she can find sanctuary within. a place of the present, with real wolves and real possibilites, she could not rely on the what had passed to be her saviour. and so, picturing the verdant embrace of easthollow, her chin tilts upwards. the heavy sky weeps, delicate rain clinging tight to her pelt as it journeyed with her as she stepped across their fallen borders.

the lush aromas cradle her with each shaken step, lustrous eyes wide with rue as vague recollections prance before her vision. the twisting blades shiver where she'd once crouched with helios, chasing after buzzing crickets..and that clearing where she'd scuffled with lainie and zephyr, mama and maman watching on right beside....she passes hurriedly by the den area, the tightening of her throat an indicator in itself that there were some things that should be left only to memory. her paws shift mechanically, as if aware of her desired location before even her mind had caught up. 

the stream comes into sight, babbling and giggling away to itself as it roiled and danced; not a care in the world for the loss of the wolves that had once relied so wholly on its source. so much so that they'd been forced to flee at its demise, only for it to have returned to its full potent now as it gleamed and sneered at the dejected dove frozen before it. 

here was the first time she'd seen her papa let broad shoulder's sag in a moment of solitary weariness, where she'd come to accept that adults were not some invincible force in this bizzare world. her body thumps upon the damp earth, long limbs draped across the bank as she glared hard at the distorted image staring back at her. "where ever you's are mama, maman and helios...i hope you's are so happy. no matter who brings you that happiness i hope you's have found it, and papa..." she idly recalls the first unalloyed conversation she'd had with valette before whispering "the wolves of easthollow believe that the dead watch over them in their eternal standing stones, i think it's a really nice thought and, well i don't know when the water of the creek returned here but i'm going to decide that it did the day you became one with the earth, that part of your spirit is what has brought this place to life once more"  

she lapsed into silence then, feeling strangely at peace as the rain pattered softly around her and she gazed unwaveringly upon the river's eternal dance.

something is coming, no, someone is coming. and yet...she does not stir from her recline, eyes do not flutter from the rollick of light and water performing their eternal, mesmerizing dance. she opts only to listen, delicate ears shivering in the breeze as they tilt and sway to the gentle footfall, so like the patter of scattered rain drops that they are only identifiable by their irregularity. she relaxes at the closed proximity, mind coaxing the phantom to reveal itself to her; for who else would yearn to linger amongst the dead? they still and the dove finds her very breath mimicking such an action, gossamer tears pressing to rain stroked cheeks, please. but it appears that that marks the conclusion of their approach and the girl glares harder at the distorted image looking back, the uncanny shift of her rippling figure only now leading her to realise her own lack of motion. she has never been so still, and there is a tranquility to its embrace. out there, she is light and vibrance and while that energy is euphoric and riveting it is also exhausting, draining but here....she is but a drifting wisp. she should really turn around, face the figure and return to the living. for they could only be but a ghost when she let eyes linger away from where they'd surely discover a solid, breathing creature but she has to, she has to return now. to dwell with the dead is no healthy thing at all. 

and so, seeming to somehow move both like a clockwork automaton kissed with stiffened life and a whimsical sprite of endless grace; the girl stands. she lifts her head and she breathes, if she could recall such an event, she'd liken it to taking ones first breath as they emerge screaming at the earth they've been gifted to. and as the air is returned to the firsky breeze and eyes of touched lustre reopen, she turns to regard whoever had intruded on her moment. and with the eddying mist clinging to his frame draped in muted ash and ivory, he very well could have been but a haunt of the lands were it not for the verdant look piercing the gloom. that and, ghosts were not real and the foolish yearn of a wayward mind would never spin a wish into a fact. there was no world in which the living and passed could linger within reach of each other, and coming here, merely tasting the hints of whom she'd lost, it let her accept this fact with liquid ease. 

he is unfamiliar and upon his pelt lingers only the earth and its air, drawing muted intrigue to the vigilant look pressed upon him. her head cocks, the motion confirmation in itself that she has wholly returned to the land of coruscating life and its need to expel energy in whatever mannerism possible. regarding the wayfarer for a moment longer, she'd finally dare intrude upon the sempiternal silence hanging over this place with a softly lilted "hello"