Whilst on a patrol of the maplewood's furthest edge, Saena spotted a troupe of wolves—at least eight of them—travelling northeast across the rocky moraine in the near distance. The female paused, nervously watching them for a while, but they were coming nowhere near Phoenix Maplewood. In fact, their course seemed like it would take them clear around it. Nevertheless, the alpha female lingered on the borders and watched them for a while. They trudged along very slowly, rather unlike any typical nomadic wolf pack, with golden coats blazing in the midday sun. Such beautiful coat colours, every one of them. Maybe they were taking their sweet time because they were too magnificant to rush.
Feeling like she might share in their beauty for just a moment and with recruitment on the brain, Saena dared to leave the safety of her territory and travel out toward them. They might be hostile, but they were brightly furred, easy for her to keep an eye on. She was quick on her feet anyway and had no reason to doubt her ability to flee if they seemed to turn hostilely toward her. Most wolves that came through these parts were reasonably sociable. So she loped toward them, closing the distance quickly. Her steps faltered as she got close enough to see them clearly.
With a sickening twist of her stomach, Saena realized they weren't brightly furred at all. Every one of them was black, white or grey, with a few combinations in between. What she'd seen as golden fur was, in fact, fire dancing along their backs. What she'd thought was slow trudging was, in fact, pained limping. Yet none of them seemed concerned about the fact that they were burning alive.
"Holy fuck," Saena muttered, speeding up now with the intent of bowling over the nearest one—a black male with a white stomach and cheeks and bright sea-green eyes, with his fur burning over his nape and hindquarters—in a forced stop-drop-and-roll maneuver. She squeezed her eyes shut as she closed the distance, anticipating the collision and the burn of fire on her own body... and then she stumbled and fell on her side, very much not on fire. As she skidded to a stop, she noticed she was on the opposite side of the wolf now. He looked up to regard her, mute as he had been in life, and then continued to trudge on.
What the actual fuck? she thought, bewildered. She leaped to her feet again and went to the next one, a fully white female with dark green eyes, and again she stumbled right through her. This time, though, there was a brief cold feeling, like water dousing her back, but Saena's fur was not wet. Realization dawned as she finally noted the absence of smoke smell, and suddenly she was deathly afraid, for while these wolves looked completely corporeal, they were not real. They were not alive. And the fire that engulfed them was not real, either.
They looked real. They were the first wolves Saena had ever seen as spirits and they lacked the same ethereal quality that the bear and other animals seemed to possess. These were solid... and yet they were invisible to anyone else's eye, and they were intangible to the touch. A mottled grey-and-black one stopped, turning an elongated snout toward her, and quietly announced, "the last of the Flightless Falcons." Though Saena did not consider herself a member of that family any longer, she recognized the name from her early memories and her heart plummeted in her chest, for they were her blood family, these fire-riddled wolves, and they were all dead.
Her haunches hit the ground and she gasped for air, suddenly feeling her chest tighten. Another wolf, a dark-haired one with his whole face on fire, swept up beside the first one—deferential and yet imperial, like a beta rather than an alpha—and whispered, "betrayal from within. Warn him." Warn who? Before Saena could open her mouth to ask, her eyes rolled back and her body began to convulse as whatever neurological disorder caused her to see these apparitions in the first place sent her into a seizure. Luckily, she did no damage to herself and the seizure was short and mild, not life-threatening in the slightest way, but she was left unconscious while the ghosts of her blood relatives moved on across the moraine and disappeared into the distance.
Feeling like she might share in their beauty for just a moment and with recruitment on the brain, Saena dared to leave the safety of her territory and travel out toward them. They might be hostile, but they were brightly furred, easy for her to keep an eye on. She was quick on her feet anyway and had no reason to doubt her ability to flee if they seemed to turn hostilely toward her. Most wolves that came through these parts were reasonably sociable. So she loped toward them, closing the distance quickly. Her steps faltered as she got close enough to see them clearly.
With a sickening twist of her stomach, Saena realized they weren't brightly furred at all. Every one of them was black, white or grey, with a few combinations in between. What she'd seen as golden fur was, in fact, fire dancing along their backs. What she'd thought was slow trudging was, in fact, pained limping. Yet none of them seemed concerned about the fact that they were burning alive.
"Holy fuck," Saena muttered, speeding up now with the intent of bowling over the nearest one—a black male with a white stomach and cheeks and bright sea-green eyes, with his fur burning over his nape and hindquarters—in a forced stop-drop-and-roll maneuver. She squeezed her eyes shut as she closed the distance, anticipating the collision and the burn of fire on her own body... and then she stumbled and fell on her side, very much not on fire. As she skidded to a stop, she noticed she was on the opposite side of the wolf now. He looked up to regard her, mute as he had been in life, and then continued to trudge on.
What the actual fuck? she thought, bewildered. She leaped to her feet again and went to the next one, a fully white female with dark green eyes, and again she stumbled right through her. This time, though, there was a brief cold feeling, like water dousing her back, but Saena's fur was not wet. Realization dawned as she finally noted the absence of smoke smell, and suddenly she was deathly afraid, for while these wolves looked completely corporeal, they were not real. They were not alive. And the fire that engulfed them was not real, either.
They looked real. They were the first wolves Saena had ever seen as spirits and they lacked the same ethereal quality that the bear and other animals seemed to possess. These were solid... and yet they were invisible to anyone else's eye, and they were intangible to the touch. A mottled grey-and-black one stopped, turning an elongated snout toward her, and quietly announced, "the last of the Flightless Falcons." Though Saena did not consider herself a member of that family any longer, she recognized the name from her early memories and her heart plummeted in her chest, for they were her blood family, these fire-riddled wolves, and they were all dead.
Her haunches hit the ground and she gasped for air, suddenly feeling her chest tighten. Another wolf, a dark-haired one with his whole face on fire, swept up beside the first one—deferential and yet imperial, like a beta rather than an alpha—and whispered, "betrayal from within. Warn him." Warn who? Before Saena could open her mouth to ask, her eyes rolled back and her body began to convulse as whatever neurological disorder caused her to see these apparitions in the first place sent her into a seizure. Luckily, she did no damage to herself and the seizure was short and mild, not life-threatening in the slightest way, but she was left unconscious while the ghosts of her blood relatives moved on across the moraine and disappeared into the distance.
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