Phantom Hollow they call me the wanderer

another day of wandering aimlessly. it had become a routine by now. wake up, wonder what to do with himself, go to sleep. the repetitive agenda drove him mad, which was strange. life as a nomad never bothered him before, but now he despised it. after getting a taste of a good pack experience, he craved for it. craved for responsibility. craved for company. the loner life was not what it used to be.

a flood of thoughts washed over issun, blinding all sense of reality. his pace and posture made him look like a dead man walking. his paws dragged along the earth and his eyes were clouded. he hadn’t noticed he was in what used to be his home. the familiar aromas yanked him out of his dream-like state.

his fur stood upright and his eyes danced around. he inhaled deeply, taking in the all too familiar surroundings. how the hell did i get all the way back here?

our hero finds himself in a haunted woodland, buffalo exulted delightedly inside his head. in truth, the crackling expanse of bare-boned trees and shadows wherein ghosts surely lurked reminded him of where he had grown. of byll, and of what little buffalo remembered about the face of their mother. she had been a spirit, he decided, a raving little wraith who whored herself out to the dark bear and gave birth to his bastards.
he was not alone and therefore opted not to launch into one of his endless soliloquies about the wickedness of clarice — the man's ears swept forward, fresh blood from his latest kill trickling slowly down their velveteen backs. a figure swathed in charcoal was approaching; or no, he had paused, and buffalo noted the trembling spikes of the other's hackles.
there was fun to be had here; the madman gave no pause and stepped into eyeshot of the stranger. "pretty spooky," buffalo chortled, glancing around the desolate wood. "that's why they call me the king of the nighttime world. i rule here."

he exhaled sharply when he realized that he was not alone in this ghost town. his ears flickered towards the snigger. a ghost stood before him, crimson red staining his fur. he looked familiar, but no matter how deep he searched through his memory he couldn’t pinpoint exactly who he was. his thoughts were soon dismissed.

issun glanced around before his powdered eyes fell upon dissembalenced ones. “you live here?” he asked.

"sure do," buffalo intoned, taking in the strange marks around the other's eyes. luckily for the man, buffalo did not have a large capacity for memory, or the desire to recall anything that did not directly benefit him. noting that the man's ashen eyes held a pleasant trace of verdant green, the madman smirked.
"was looking for my sister," buffalo droned, pacing some steps beyond the newcomer. "got holed up here, and decided — why not just ... stay?" he chuckled dryly. "not a bad place as haunted woodlands go, dude. i could do worse."

issun’s eyes followed the stark white stranger. his decision to stay here puzzled him. why here of any place? he himself would never be able to reside in one place alone for long. the silence would get to him.

“what’s her name?” he asked. maybe there was a chance he ran into her, though he doubted it. it’s been a long while since he’s ran into anyone.

he was growing bored with the king of the nighttime world schtick; what was the point if dapple-eyes didn't even bat an eye? buffalo combed his cluttered mind for some nugget of madness that would provoke a reaction from the stranger, but it came in the form of a question posed to him.
fighting a delighted cackle — Sos be praised! — the pale madman adopted a tragicomic expression and sighed loudly into the frigid air. "her name is byll. buffalo. byll. my mother was so creative," buffalo murmured, turning his woeful gaze upon his hopefully rapt audience. "she is the light of my world. fire in my blood. sister. lover. gods broken on this cruel shore and separated yet again"
buffalo paused and worried one bloodstained lip with his teeth. "do you have sisters? i want to know if you have felt what it's like to lose one."