Greatwater Lake the ghost by the lake

The world was brighter yet than it had been before. Colder and brighter both. Yet it also provided the spirit with new means of camouflage. She could never quite hide in the darkness of Blackfeather Woods, but out here in the fields she did not show as much; her eyes were stark white and so was her fur. Especially on days like these when a layer of fresh snow continually blanketed the earth the ghost felt specifically at home. As if the world had decided to change, just for her sake.

However, with these means to hide also came the cold that seemed to pierce right through her fur. It was wiry and thin, not like the caretaker's fur but different altogether. Hopefully she would grow into it. Maybe it was just a phase.

The pale youth made her way to the large lake amidst the many plains that day round dusk, with the last beams of sunlight to accompany her, eager to check out a new place. She was quite the homebody for no place accommodated a spirit like herself like Blackfeather Woods did, but today the outside world's mysticism won her heart.

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He swept into this land, eyes all-seeing. Watching the white below for prey. Anything.
A white form shifted below him, a glitter of a lake sprawled before the movement.
He was traveling, night time would bring his hunting, yet he was curious.

Sweeping downwards, soft wings near silent. He passed behind where he saw movement. A small wolf was what had caught his eye. He let out a piercing cry before again bending upwards, feathers easily protecting against the cold.
Snows would come soon, ending this joy-ride.
He banked towards the lake, turning with grace towards the wolf, low to the surface of the harsh-glitter. He swept up before the form, talons out as if he would grasp her eyes and rip them, yet he didn't.
He cooed softly in his laughter.

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At first the creature gathered her interest as it glided through the sky, fearlessly. Much like the lights of the spirits would, except not white nor glowing. The pale youth watched as it drew closer and closer, but she did not flinch nor move from her position until it was very close. Every moment before then she thought to herself that it would be drawn away, surely, at some point, but then it was not.

She dove at the last moment, only to realise that she had been fooled the moment after when she heard the bird's sounds which were almost like laughter. She looked up at the bird and stared, tail tip twitching, waiting for an opportunity to retaliate. For thought she was a spirit, she would return the favour to any who messed with her.

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The bird banked again, swooping down to pass in lazy circles, hopefully just out of reach. He wasn't about to be caught out by a jumping lupine. At last, when he thought it would be safe to do so, he alighted on the ground a few feet from the white spirit. He perched gracefully on the surface, his talons curled into the snow. His head tilted, studying the wolf.

She looked as if she were crafted from a snowflake, silver eyes full of cunning. Thin plumage...did she feel cold? Why would the bastard care.

He cooed again, softly. A sound of curiosity. He hopped closer before flashing a wing out to shake snow from it. His beak clicked together in contemplation. Another hop provided he wasn't being set upon by the snow-spirit.

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As the bird glided down and set upon the ground near her, the pale youth at first prepared a pounce, intending to land just in front of it, make it startle. However, as it landed the look in its eyes was different from before; the sound was softer, and there was some sort of curiosity in the way it looked at her.

The spirit gingerly stretched out her neck and sniffed the air in a silent gesture of curious greeting.

Being the asshole he was, Blindside had a sudden urge to be his true character and be, well, an ass. His inspection was over, he'd taken note of the features of the wolf. Pale in every sense; a true wraith.

The bird cooed again, sharply, before launching forwards; setting into flight. He snapped his talons forward and scraped them through the wisps of fur and angled his tail to fly upwards and away, provided he hadn't been caught in his bold move and was now flailing under the jaws of the wolf.

The spirit was intrigued, though not unwise. She had been tensed and snapped at the bird as it launched forward into flight once more. Teeth snapped into the air and in the end she did not get a prize; all she had done was prevent the bird to have caught part of her as it flew up, but it was too clever and fast for her to catch in turn.

The pale youth watched as the bird flew up and then she started making her way back towards the dark woods, childishly losing interest and finding something else to busy herself with further away.

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When his body wasn't taken captive, he wheeled high in the sky, eyes again locating the winter-spirit. He swooped lower, but not close to being of a hindrance. He silently followed her path to the woods, often banking away to investigate a sound or what he thought was a moving shape in the snow. But he returned to fly overhead her time and time again.
And when at last she reached the woods, he tilted off and away towards the mountains again, now with the knowledge that there was a young, white wolf in a dark, dark woodland that was guarded by murderers and thieves.
They were not the kind of ilk he associated with; not now nor ever.

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