Sleepy Fox Hollow Drags me under, takes me home.

In the same vein that Mou could not shake being nocturnal, he could not stop some of the other behaviours that carried with him from the woods; although he had never been a particularly spiritual creature in the grand scheme of things, there were aspects of Blackfeather that persisted within the Hollow that he missed, thus perpetuating some of the rituals for himself. Between the two ghosts (Mou and Maegi) it was the woman who was the zealot—but in this trying time, having lost a home he had only just reunited with and been present for the deaths of Maegi's brood, he felt the need for something familiar.

So he collected a few things that reminded him of home. An old feather he'd found among the detritus of the earth (which he noted was not black and sleek like a raven as he'd hoped, but shining with red and brown, being a discarded primary feather from a hawk's wing); the still-peeling skull of some kind of rodent creature which he carefully picked at with his teeth or washed with his tongue until bare; a maple leaf that still carried some red within it (it had caught his eye for how vibrant it appeared against the snow). These things he carefully collected and assembled near a scrape which had become his resting place.

He piled them next to the exposed dirt where he'd often coil himself in the daylight, unsure of what to do next.

In the beginning Elfie had felt a little jealous, because Maegi's attention was divided between him and the reserved, mute man by her side. But over the weeks he had learned that his guardian had enough affection for both of them and from careful observation he realized that, if the fellow were not here, the pale she-wolf would not be happy. And being a kind kid in his heart, he did not wish for that to happen.

Over the weeks that followed since them joining the pack, he had begun to feel some sort of comradeship with the two Blackfeather wolves. All three of them had been hurt in one way or the other. Somebody evil had disfigured Maegi's beautiful face and made her foot crooked. Mou had scars all over his body, there was an eye missing and there was something about him that instilled pity and understanding.

Elfie had been broken physically, his body was still recovering from bruises, the ribs were healing and his head was on the mend, but not quite right. But then he had a feeling that someone had harmed and broken Mou far worse. The boy quietly watched, how the pale man assembled a little pile of treasures in his sleeping spot, and only then approached. A timid smile and a submissive wag with his tail, then he asked: "What are you doing?"

The objects settled where he had placed them. The skull he had collected stared mutely back at him. Once, maybe, he would have found it unsettling. Now it was like looking in a mirror, those dark eye-holes staring endlessly back at him. The red of the maple leaf caught against the bleached bone patches exposed beneath ragged skin, and he thought, "You almost look alive."

Then - What are you doing?

The child's voice prompted a glance, and Mou did not know what to say. He did not know this boy well, although he had done his best to adhere to Maegi's wishes and keep him safe, keep him fed. Perhaps it was residual guilt over his involvement with Sobek. This was not a child of the woods and yet they had just as much misfortune, just as much darkness, Mou justified in silence - otherwise why would they have been brought to the two ghosts?

The man turned back to the pile and looked upon it thoughtfully, then carefully retrieved the skull. He gingerly placed it before the little flame. There was still some tissue attached but it was not edible. With a nudge of his nose Mou sent it rolling towards the child - a gift, or a game, to pass the time.

Maegi's pale friend did not speak and looking back at the brief time the two had spent together Elfie did not recall a single moment, when the fellow had uttered one word. The boy had written it down to him being shy and reserved in the beginning, but now - could it be so that the man was mute? It did not seem weird at all, because in the back of his mind there was a nagging memory of a wolf, who had had a disability too. 

He leaned down to sniff the top of the skull, then used his paw to flip it around to better inspect the remaining flesh and fur on it. "Where did you get it?" Elfie looked up at Mou and waited for an answer.

The child caught the skull as it tumbled and did not return it, rather, they inspected it. Evidently the game of "toss the skull" or whatever wasn't going to be a smash hit. That was fine. But when Elfie asked him point blank where he'd found it, Mou grimaced slightly and his narrow shoulders rose like colliding glaciers over his shoulders; he had no idea how to articulate what needed to be said, and opted for his usual silence and mystery.

The skull wasn't the only thing he had with him. He grabbed randomly at his pile of goods (like a bird himself) and came away with the intact maple leaf. He held it by the stem and the palm-sized patch of red draped against his snout, curling over the black mask lining the bridge of his nose, until he carefully placed it down next to the skull. For a moment the light caught upon the leaf and gave Mou's face a red glow, almost like he was coughing blood in to a pool on the earth — but then he sat back.

"You do not talk much, do you?" Elfie tilted his head to the side and gave a brief, inquisitive look at Mou. But he was not expecting an answer, just stating the obvious. Never mind the skull, because the mute man picked out another treasure from his heap of goodies and boy craned his neck to see, what it was. He respected Mou's rights to the items too much to approach them himself and rummage through on his own. 

A bright red leaf! And given the circumstances, it was very well preserved. "This is so cool!" he smiled at the man in appreciation, then leaned down to have a better look at the fragile object. "Do you have more stuff like this there?" was the next obvious question.

So many wolves found his silence disconcerting, and they always asked about it. Even the boy asked - but he seemed more interested in the pile of Mou's trinkets than any real answer, so the wolf chuffed. Rather, he mimed chuffing - the breath squeaked out of him like a broken toy, drowned out by the exuberance Elfie displayed as he observed the leaf. As he asked for more Mou was already dipping his snout towards his dwindling pile and carefully extracted the hawk feather.

This he very carefully placed down beside the skull, but as he did so a slight breeze grabbed for it, and it flipped over. He snapped his teeth and tried to catch it, then planted a paw down, crunching the snow with the palm of his pad - and with a tiny crack, felt the pinned feather break. His good eye widened at the sound and as he withdrew his paw, the broken feather was wedged in to the snow, bent in half.

Mou was voiceless, but he had no trouble understanding, what Elfie was telling him. It was a one way conversation, but it did not feel awkward. The closest comparison is that of owner talking to their beloved dog: they express themselves in other ways and it's as good as a dialogue.

The boy waited patiently for the man to bring another treasure. This time it was a brown and striped feather. Elfie had not seen such in his life and his interest was captured immediately. He tried to imagine, what would the bird look like to whom the feather belonged, but did not come up with anything useful.

Instead, when the feather almost got blown away, he was both agitated and sorry for Mou's sake. It was clear that every single thing in that figurative chest of treasures had a meaning to the man. "It's no less beautiful," he tried to cheer him up. "I think it is even better now. You have two of those."

He looked down at the broken feather for a pensive moment, and lifted his attention to Elfie when he spoke. The boy had a good point, although Mou was still sad. He reached carefully for the feather and with a little tug, fully severed one half from the other and then offered the larger half to Elfie - placing it down before the boy. He licked the dry taste from his lips and smiled.

Mou seemed to like the idea and Elfie smiled encouragingly. "For me? Why thank you!" he wagged his tail and leaned down to sniff at the gift. The feather tickled his nostrils and he sneezed, making the piece of it lift up in the air and fly some feet away from the two. The boy got to his feet hastily and pounced at the gift, not wishing to lose it as easily as it had happened with the leaf. 

"Gotcha," he told Mou, holding his forepaws firmly above the feather. Elfie picked it up, inserted it between two rocks, where it looked like a little, cheerful flag. "Are you hungry?" he asked the mute man. "We could go and hunt some of those fancy, small rodents."

Wanna fade with them going off to hunt together?

The boy took the gift carefully, seemingly quite charmed by it. Mou watched as he arranged the piece he was given and found himself smiling when he spied it flickering like a little brown candle flame between the rocks. He took his own half with care and placed it back among his collection, and then snatched up the skull, the leaf, and arranged them carefully so they were partially hidden.

As he was finishing this, Elfie piped up with a question and Mou realized he was, in fact, quite hungry. It would do them both good to roam around, get to know the place, warm up and gather something of use to the pack. So he nodded as Elfie said, We could go hunt some of those fancy, small rodents.

With a nod and a quick stride, Mou disembarked from his little hideaway and then paused, turning to draw his eyes to the red boy's features expectantly, as if to say 'Lets go!'

Mou liked the idea (if he did not, then Elfie would never be able to tell that he had lied to him) and after a little deliberation, the boy decided to head towards the lake. There were flat, grassy areas that pikas liked to live in and it was probably their best shot to begin with. 

Off they went and spent a cheerful afternoon together.