Fairspell Meadow Free the ghost that haunts you.

BWP got him.

It was late. He wasn't supposed to be here, roaming in the gloom while the meadow whispered around him - he should have been asleep by his mother's side. Something had called to him in the greylight; a brisk wind carrying a scent he thought to be familiar. A sound so like a voice. Sobek was sleepy as he went off among the reeds which could have accounted for much of this; but the descending cold soon woke him from his reverie.

And there, standing pale and thin among Fairspell's expanse, was Anansi. He knew it could not be, but the boy was still young enough to believe in miracles and magic, and the vision of his pale brother drifting like white smoke across the grass made his heart ache in a new painful manner. He felt the stinging wind upon his eyes, saw through the blurry sheen that coated them, as the figure moved along. It did not take any prompting for Sobek to charge after his lost kin; he plunged across the meadow, and when near enough, called out Anansi's name.

The ghost did not move to indicate it had heard him. It was obscured, hazing in and out of focus, rising at points in to the dark sky as if to form clouds; tendrils of misty white spreading thin across the green. He ran harder, felt the slick sensation of his watery eyes leaking down his cheeks; he called again and didn't even notice that his shouting voice was not employed, that there was only deafening silence. Sobek sucks in breath after breath and the wintery air soothes him from the inside out; it is familiar, this chill, this emptiness.

It slowly filled him. His limbs slowed, too heavy to lift, and his breath pealed in great white gasps, as if Sobek were transcending, losing coherence and form. He wants to chase after the spirit and bring him back to Maegi, to see the joy distilled within her at the reunion of their family. He tries so hard to catch up, and when Sobek finally comes to where the mist-formed creature lingers, there is nothing. He blinks and turns, staring at the surrounding dark of a hollow night.

When the dawn arrives, the boy's body is not far from where @Maegi and @Sakhmet are sleeping. He is cold to the touch; clutched between his paws is the remnant of his brother and it glitters with ice, meanwhile, his own thin coat is layered with frost, and his face is contorted in a wordless shout, Anansi!

The nights were getting colder, and with them, her heart frosted over. A veil of numbness had settled over her, finally; she wasn't healing from Anansi's death, more learning to live with it. She had to go on. She had two more children.

When she woke, Maegi hopefully held her daughter close—but her son was missing. It was freezing and she shivered as she rose, eyes darting to and fro, looking. . . Sobek? she called out, her breath misting on the air.

She stretched, catlike, her joints stiff as she walked, following her son's still-fresh scent. She called his name and found him sleeping, his back to her. Jaes, he must be so cold without her! Maegi smiled ruefully, despite her worry, and padded toward him with warmth in her voice as she said, What are you doing out here on your own?

Maegi circled him and looked upon his face and felt her stomach sink like a stone in water, the ice around her heart shattering, the pulp and blood and ache throbbing all over again.

Frozen. Frozen in time and space. Dead.

To see only Anansi's tail was one thing, but to be able to picture her son's last stare, his last contorted breath— Oh, god, it was agony—

The Nona threw back her head in a wordless, tortured shriek that dissolved into sobs, reverberating through the still morning. She flung herself upon his body as if to warm him, bring him back to life; her tears fell upon his pelt and melted the frost, little dark blotches—

Oh, Jaes, why why why why why why why why why WHY WHY WHY?!?!

song

She did not stir until the cold seeped into her own side, her mother departing from their resting spot. A few feverish kicks from her lanky limbs revealed she was alone. It stirred her into consciousness. Groggy and sleepily blind, she stumbled into the world. Something was off that morning. Perhaps it was how cool the temperatures had dropped, or how she had raised to an empty den, maybe it was the deathly silence in the air.

It did not last long. A slow heartbeat or two. Then a sound of something awfully familiar ripped through the silence. A sound she could place to a scene she'd wish she could forget.

You've been through this before.
Haven't you?

She was so close to the source this time around, she could not pretend she had not heard it. There were no trees to hide in the roots of and no caves to disappear into. With a glassy gaze she looked for the path before she drifted after her mother. The scene was familiar although certain important details had been switched about. Crimson on the ground but it was no blood. Fur that met the pale of her mother. It was clear who was upon the earth this time. Kissed by frost but she knew. Yet if she tried hard enough she could imagine that perhaps it was her upon the earth.

No bargaining.

But her lungs still pushed that cold autumn air in and out. She could still hear the mournful sounds of her mother. Even as ghastly as she felt, she was still here. Her eyes would water but she could not digest it fully yet. No sound was made as she moved to lay wherever she could reach a part of him, hidden beneath their mother's lively form.

He had meant to seek them out in the darkness, to hopefully reunite before they slept, but when he arrived they were coiled together in slumber and Mou could not - would not - bother them. There had been Maegi, coiled protectively around two bundles of red. Mou had not gotten too close in case they would wake. He lingered near, protective and silent, as the light greyed out and faded to darkness; when finally there was only the obscurity of the night he felt the brief chill of a sweeping winter wind, and withdrew from them. In the morning he would find them again, he thought. He would introduce himself, he would reunite with his beloved. Together they could be a family.

Mou did not know that his presence had made an impact. That his fleeting figure, ghostly white, caught in the corner of the boy's eye and drew him away from the warmth of his mother. While Mou had sought shelter for the night within the expanse of green, the child had been hunting for him - calling sleepily in to the darkness - but by the time the tiny spirit had fled and the body had frozen, Mou was fast asleep.

When the morning did come he woke to the sound of a deeply rooted turmoil made manifest as a shrieking voice, and it was a voice he knew. He was on his feet and racing close to where the family was nesting when he spotted them - Maegi hunkered low and sobbing, and one of the red bodies lively, but silent. He was confused; he did not notice that the family unit had moved away from the impressions in the grass where they had originally slept. To him, nothing had changed.

But there - beneath them both - one of the little red bodies. Cold.

The ghost swept towards them without a sound and soon dropped to the dirt beside Maegi, giving her a small distance in case he was not welcome but -- being present, being watchful, wishing he could do something to fix things, as always.

Venamis did not like the meadow.

He'd hung back among the woods for a time while the others moved on, hoping with every fibre of his being that they would realise their mistake and turn back. In his young life, one filled with uncertainty as his family trailed their cubs from hollow to forest in search of a home for them, Ven had never truly felt like he belonged.

Until Blackfeather Woods. Until Maegi opened her arms to him, albeit reluctantly. It was what had so swiftly become familiar to him, comfortable, secure. It felt so wrong to abandon their land.

The days ticked by slowly and the young Melonii, cold and entirely alone, left his stubbornness and pride beneath the dark woods' canopy to venture out into the openness of the meadow that their leader had chosen. 

Still, he maintained distance from his packmates, quietly resentful of their decision to disperse. It was purely by chance that he was lurking nearby when another's cries brought his ears high atop his head, surprised. Venamis quickened his stride as he made a swift approach to investigate, but he could not ever have imagined what he found. The pale Alphess, shrieking and sobbing uncontrollably as she hovered over a smaller reddish figure. One of the twins? Perished.

He did not stay to offer support; what was there that he could do? Venamis made a quick exit, (hopefully) fleeing before his presence could be noted.

Sakhmet was there, then, burrowing herself close; she pulled her daughter to her with a fervency that left her breathless, pressing the dark girl against her breast as if the child would slip away at any moment. Sakhmet, Sakhmet, she whispered mournfully, in a broken, ragged voice. She was all Maegi had left. Everyone else—

No. Mou had come, too. He lingered for a moment on the edge of the scene, and then drew near, his warmth touching her even in the coldest of moments. Still clutching Sakhmet, she buried her face in his ruff and sobbed. His scent cloaked the scent of death and for that, she was grateful. For him, she was grateful.

Please stay, Maegi moaned, and did she mean in this moment, or for the rest of their lives? Both, surely—she needed him now more than ever, and she needed him forever. Please stay, and her voice trailed off to the barest murmur, caught in her throat, lost in his fur.

Venamis was not noticed by the grieving mother, but if he had been, she would have beckoned him closer, too. More than anything, she did not want to be alone in this moment. . .and Venamis was family, too.

She craved the touch of anyone and everyone, if only to forget the sensation of her son's dead flesh against her muzzle.

Treating the kid's posts like cameos; gave ample time for more replies, and I can remove my reply if you guys prefer. Gonna wrap!

The mother mourned, the daughter clung to the body in silence. Another child surfaced and to them the ghost merely glimpsed, unable to focus for long anywhere but Maegi; when they slipped away Mou's entire being became focused on the scene before him. In time his beloved would calm down - still hurting, still mourning, but frozen in their grief. He had no idea how long it would take before the little family departed from the little boy's frozen body; but he did his best to be present, to be a warm body.

Mou would try, when able, to herd Maegi away. To find her some place to hide, be warm, sleep - if possible. And he would return to where the body lay, find an out-of-the-way place to dig a grave. At least if he buried the body it would not rot in the open and spoil Maegi and Sakhmet's memory of the little one (however, the frozen face of the boy shouting for his brother may be etched there for eternity already).

The grave, nesting beneath a single yew tree standing defiant between the woods and the meadow, would be accessible if Maegi wished to visit it; he would be sure to show her, when she felt stronger.