Lost Creek Hollow all that may seem is but a dream within a dream

@Grayday

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Had the scorching Mother Sun been high in the sky, bearing down upon the white lady in skattered patches along the dark hollow's floor, her pace might have been slowed to an insufferable crawl. Her steps may not have been as light, and her head might have been bowed in submission, giving in to Her overbearing rays (however sparse) and accepting their scalding burn until shelter could be found.

T'was not Mother Sun that reigned in the sky, though; it was Sister Moon! And the benevolent Sister did not pester Nimue with scorching rays, but beautiful moonbeams that bled silver through the trees and lit up every strand of her stark white pelt like a loving embrace. For this, Nimue did not crawl, but she danced- her pace was a steady - if not gayly quickened - trot, her head held high and pink tongue lolling past her equally pink lips, a look of pure delight upon her face. She moved through the dark, night striken hollow like a ghostly spectre, her paws flying gracefully over every pebble, and a jolly tune hummed in her throat.

The world passed by her in dark blurs, it was true, but Sister Moon was generous enough to elluminate the nearby creeks with her beams, giving an illustrous glow to the steady sound of babbling brook, which the spectre easily followed. She'd traveled very far the other night, seen many things under the watchful gaze of her Sister, and once Mother rose to lay her to bed, she'd found herself horribly thirsty. The thirst had had to wait for moonrise, so of course, by now, Nimue's tongue was yearning to drink the pristine water's ahead. She finally deemed herself close enough, could hear the creek splashing before her, so she slowed her trot to a complete halt and bowed her head to drink, still loudly humming her song as she did so.
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With Chaska (hopefully) taken care of, Day felt that it was time to visit the creek once more. He'd fallen back into his noctournal routine, but on this night, once the borders had been thoroughly checked and the scent-marks freshened, Day had set off toward the distant treetops that his eyes could not detect in the dark. If he'd not been there before, he wasn't sure he could've found his way there without the light of the sun, but as it was, he was soon plodding silently through the tall, ungainly trees.

First, he found Chaska's scent and traced it to the outer edges of the territory. It looked like he'd headed in the direction Day had suggested, but to know for sure, he'd have to track the male all the way there. He's not my responsibility, Day thought to himself, turning reluctantly away from the trail. Tonight was for exploring, not worry.

The silver male let his nose take control, following deer trails and grouse scents and whatever else caught his fancy as he wandered through the land. His eyes did not get much use until a ghostly figure flitted across his vision, so unearthly in the dark that Day had to blink - hard and fast - in order to convince himself that it'd been real. But when he opened his eyes, the pale vision was still there.

"Hey," he called out, his voice made hoarse by a sudden spike in anxiety. Was it a ghost? A devil? Day knew that he'd stopped praying, that his relationship with the Cat and Calf had been set aside for some time, now. Was his god only now seeking retribution?

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A hoarse sound called out in the dark, clear and close, disrupting the melodous music of the hollow around. The white lady cut her humm short and lifted her head, slowly and carefully, her ever wide, pale red eyes staring straight through the man as silvery water dripped from her chin. She could just barely make out his gray figure in the dark of the night; it looked like a grey blob that blended all too well with the inky blue and purple environment around them. Were it not for Sister Moon's generous beams falling down upon him and giving the figure a faint illustrous outline, the apparation might have had to wonder if anyone was really there; if she'd heard the "Hey" at all.

"Hello brother," she greeted calmly, her face void of emotion and her tone light and airy as always. 

This distance would not do, she decided. Even after growing accustomed to her poor vision, she still wanted to try and see him a little better. Plus, with the earthy smelling waters of the creek on her nose,  masking all other smells, the stranger's scent was also hard to make out, and she needed that far more than her sight. Aware she might unsettle him but not caring to acknowledge it, she leaned her weight into her hind legs, bunching up her pale body so that she might spring forward, then released herself into a graceful leap over the thin creek. She glided her way over a few more trickling streams, this time allowing her paws to get wet (she hadn't realized there were multiple bodies of water), and kept trotting until the stranger was another muzzle length in front of her. She then stopped and tilted her head at the male, a single puff of breath materialzing in front of her in the icy air.

Though some of his features were more evident now, he still looked like a big grey blur; his coat still caomuflauging well with the Sister's night. His scent, however, was much stronger, and that brought her comfort, causing her ghostly tail to whisk slowly from side to side for a wag or two. He carried many scents on his pelt, not only that of the hollow and himself, but of other wolves as well. Perhaps his family. Whether or not they were related by blood, she referred to all packs as families, just as she referred to males as brothers and females as sisters. She turned her muzzle away from him and lifted her nose to the wind, trying to see if she could smell the other wolves. "Many brothers and sisters..." She murmured thoughtfully, not able to smell them exactly, but commenting on the scents of his pelt.
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His nose soon caught the woman's scent. So she is a wolf, and not a wraith, he thought, but that didn't stop him from being unsettled when she came right up to him and peered into his soul. A low growl in his throat warned her not to try anything funny. His who body seemed to stiffen as she spoke, his tail rising unconsciously in a vain effort to enforce normal wolf behavior upon this woman.

"Hello," he replied, discomfort clear in his tone. She did not seem agressive, and so neither would he be, but he was surely unhappy with their sudden proximity. The woman went on in her unearthly tone, and Day felt a surge of protectiveness well up in him as he realized the witch was taking in the scents of his family.

"I'm a father," he said, and by his tone, one might of thought the words were a threat. The truth was that Grayday felt threatened; he was bigger and stronger than this wolf, but there were strange magicks out there, and he'd not said a prayer in many moons. "Who are you?" he asked after a moment, squinting as he peered down his muzzle at the pale shewolf.

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By this time in her life, she was well aware that her appearance and mannerisms unsettled many, so it came as no shock when the male responded to her in a wary way. She did not step back or flinch when he snarled low (a move she made out of naivety more than boldness), and as for his dominant body language, it meant nothing to the half blind hermit who could not see it nor had the pack experience to know its meaning anyway.

As for his mention of being a father, she merely gave a thoughtful hum in response, her eerie song slowly starting back up again but in no way loud enough to drown him out. The term “father” meant very little to her; her own wasn’t even so much as a faded scent in her memories, and the only parent deity she worshiped was referred to as Mother. She knew the title was important, therefore did not devalue or shame him for it, but her vagueness on the subject kept her from feeling anything more about it. So, she simply cast it aside, easily putting the fact somewhere she’d likely forget it. Either way, he was still “brother”.

Now he asked who she was, and the question brought back that ghost of a smile on her lips. Her song had faded out so she could hear him, but quickly vamped back up again. It was not what one might consider a beautiful song, no, it was something more akin to a slowed down nursery rhyme or an old tinkling music box. It merely added to her strange, eeriness, now coupled with a slightly swaying form.

“I am many things, so they say… Wolf, yet naught… Ghost, apparition, demon, yet naught… Her creation,” she nodded up to the moon peering through the trees, “and my own.”

Her unseeing gaze found him once again, her cryptic lament likely making her seem more out of touch with reality. “I am called Nimue.

“Who are you, brother?”

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Had it been given a few seconds earlier - and from the distance she'd been then - the woman's answer might've unsettled the sterling male. But he could smell her, now - the animal scent of her. She was no spirit or apparition, but a wolf. A small one, with the stale oder that spoke of lonesome nights clinging to her pelt.

Day began to feel very silly for being so superstitious.

"Grayday," he responded, not quite sure what to make of her cryptic introduction. Now that he'd written her off as a regular wolf and not a preternatural creature, her mannerisms seemed more confusing than mysterious. "Of Easthollow," he added, feeling that his own introduction had left something to be desired, especially after her own flowery intro.

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"Hmm... Grayday," the spectre repeated thoughtfully, committing the name to some unseen corner in her mind. Wolves always passed in and out of her life, or perhaps a better way of putting it was that she always passed in and out of there's, so no name ever stuck permanently. No name reigned surpreme over others, no name had a reason to stick, but she still made a concious effort to remember each of her "friends", for the fear she'd go (more) insane if she couldn't recall having ever met them. 

As if an after thought, he tacked on "of Easthollow", causing her head to tilt and ears to perk. The aimless woman had traveled far and wide, passed through a great many of place, but so rarely did she ever learn their names. It was nice to give things names. It made them feel... More important. Tangible, even. Not just another pretty picture in her never ending dream. Was this Easthollow? Or was he from somewhere else? Perhaps Easthollow was the name of his "family"? Curiostiy swilred in her brain like a gracious swarm of butterflies.

"I've never heard such as place as 'Easthollow'," she admitted in her usual airy voice, her red eyes gazing beyond him in an attempt to picture the place. "Is this your 'Easthollow', or have you strayed by Her light?" Even if she were tresspasing, it wouldn't phase the spacey woman. The concept of owning territory made little sense to her, as all land belonged to the Sister and Mother. For a wolf to claim it as their own just seemed silly. 
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The slow, plodding, and yet strangely melodic way she spoke made Grayday feel as though he'd be there a while. The male plopped himself down and stared at the pale woman, his head tilting to the side as he finally noticed her strange, red-tinged eyes.

"It's not really a place - more like a people," he informed her. "My brothers and sisters," he added, perhaps poking fun at her but perhaps merely trying to help her understand. "We don't live here, though. We're over in that direction. Couple hours, if you walk."

Feeling much more at ease, now, Grayday found himself worrying for the little weirdo out here on her own. "What about you? Got a home?" he asked, privately feeling that he should not expect an answer from such a cryptic little wolf. Not a straight one, at least.

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The ghost's tail whisked softly from side to side again when he used the term "brothers and sisters", for it truly did help paint a clearer picture in her head. So it was his family then... intriguing. She still had never heard of it, still had no idea how it worked, but she was certainly curious. Did it work like her past "family", or was it different? She had become vaguely aware that not all families worked the same... Not all believed in the same "practices" as her past people. When he told her which direction it was, she turned her muzzle to look, bleary red eyes scanning the distant purple and black forms of the hollow's trees, trying to see through them and image a group of wolves named "Easthollow". With nothing better to do, maybe she would investigate one day.

Her ears perked to the males next question, causing her to give him a side glance. Her home? Memories of such a place came creeping back, the little patch of empty woods she'd haunted since the age of a few months, then deserted when the Sister showed her a whole new world to explore... Vague memories of wolves were there too, but she'd only ever caught glimpses of them between the trees, never knew them the way she knew most wolves now... It wasn't really her home anymore though, so there was no need to reflect further. 

"My home is with the Sister and Mother, for all lands and all wolves are one beneath Their light." 

Now her eyes found him again. "I simply go and stay wherever They permit me."
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Grayday wagged his tail when she wagged hers, glad that they'd reached friendly understandings. Nimue was an odd woman, but not an unpleasant one - he found himself appreciating her company. She talked about some weird stuff, and he wasn't too sure about the company that she kept, but he could give her the benefit of the doubt before he headed for the hills.

"Who are they?" he asked, ears flickering in curiosity as she mentions these mothers and sisters once again. "The Mother, and the Sister?"

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Her whisking tail slowed to a halt and her head quizically tilted to the side as she heeded his question, clearly puzzled. In her time as a traveler, she'd only vaguley come to understand that not everyone shared the same names for her deities — the Sister Moon and Mother Sun — yet it still struck her as strange that he didn't know who they were. Perhaps she was just too lost in her own world to see it from his perspective, to grasp why and how he wouldln't know what she was talking about. Either way, regardless of how he could be so naive, she had no qualm with enlightening him, would even be glad to share this knowlegde. 

"They are the creators of our very world, the guardians of all things living and the rulers of the skies."

Her head tilted back up to gaze through the tree canopies, red eyes shining with whatever sparse amount of moonlight was poking through. "Sister Moon — whom watches over us as we speak — is the ruler of the night, a lady of darkness and the player of mischeivous games that can only be concieved beneath the stars' glow." Nimue herself only had an idea of what stars were; with her poor vision, it was nearly impossible to spot the tiny pinpricks of light amidst the sea of darkness that was the nightsky. A faint smile graced her lips as she spoke next. "She and I share a special connection..."

Now her gaze returned to Grayday. "Mother Sun is the ruler of the day, the one who radiates with a burning fire that engulfs the whole world. She is stern and unforgiving, and not very fond of me... but I am still a wolf beneath her rays as everyone else is. She does not wish me real harm." She gave a dismissive flick of her ears, something akin to a shrug. 
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Grayday gaped at the odd little woman, caught off-guard by her description of the sun. It was clear she preferred the night to the day, something that he thought on with no small amount of private amusement. After a moment, though, he cleared his throat and soldiered on through the surreal conversation.

"My family worships under the duality of the Cat and Calf," he offered, wondering if there were very many other religions out there. He'd never heard of a wolf worshiping anything other than the Cat and Calf, but then again, he did not have very many religious conversations. He wasn't sure he'd even talked to his own children about it - something he would have to remedy at some point in their lives. Day did not necessarily think that it was wrong not to worship the Cat and Calf, but it was certainly a foreign concept.

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A thoughful humm tinkled past her lips as he named his own deities— the Cat and the Calf. Neither knowing what a cat or calf were (she'd never happened upon a wild cat before, and she was not a hunter of big game), she did not pictured the animals they represented. Rather, with the concept of their duality, she wondered if they were the same thing as her goddesss, just with foreign names. Incapable of beleiving in any other gods, that was as close as the spectre could get to understanding other religons; assuming all religions were one, just with slightly warped information.

Even if she might not neccesarily believe in this "Cat and Calf", she still liked to hear about the beliefs of others, feeling a deep connection to those that were also spiritual. She also liked to just hear others talk in general, specifically Grayday, as he seemed rather nice. "I have never heard of this 'Cat' and 'Calf'." Her tail wagged encouragingly. "Tell me brother what are they?"
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He was surprised even moreso when Nimue inquired further. Like her, he could not move past his own religion, and the concept that it could be unknown by many or even by one was something that he had not yet considered. But he did not look down on her for her ignorance, just as he did not think himself dull for not knowing her deities.

"He," the male corrected (for it was a man's god, though the women of his pack had worshiped all the same), automatically and without affront. "He is the Hunter and the Hunted, who looks after all creatures with the same lovingkindness and the same stern hand. He is Strength and Weakness, Death and New Life," the male went on, speaking the words he'd heard his own father speak time and again. "To live is to worship, and to live as wolves ought is to glorify Him."

There was more about giving and taking, times and seasons, breeding and child-rearing, but Grayday had never learned those parts as well as his father had wanted him to. Besides, he was sure there was a clause somewhere in there that he was going against, and as long as he could claim ignorance, he would.