Duck Lake trapdoor

She found herself meandering again. Haunt idly wondered whether anyone at Sapphique even noticed her absence. She didn't think they didn't care about her, though she wasn't close to any of them either. Still, she knew she should head back soon, lest they think she'd abandoned them. As tempted as she was to go after Vex or even Arbiter—and as often as she strayed lately—the yearling would not simply disappear without a word.

Haunt rose to all fours after sitting beside a small lake for an hour or so, watching ducks. She shook out her ruff and prepared to head north to the coast. But she hadn't gone more than a few steps before she abruptly noticed something along the lake's western shore. Intrigued, she moved toward it, slowing her step as she approached and coming to a stop several yards away.

She stared, eyes slowly widening when she realized she was looking at the mutilated corpse of a mountain lion. Haunt craned forward, sniffing at the thick stench of blood. She then scrambled backward when it moved.

Averna had vanished from the valley. Karst wasn't sad about it but he wasn't content either. He did not like how someone could be there one moment and gone the next, and was fearful that she would resurface spontaneously when he least expected it; a poltergeist, of sorts.

It hadn't been his intention to leave the valley in search of her, or anyone. He wanted to find herbs for his collection. As soon as he crossed the threshold that the massive boulder represented Karst moved quickly. He did not know how to track things with any great finesse, and meandered in short frantic spurts until home was far behind him.

He moved north; the smell of water became more prevalent as he snaked along, all the way up to the moment it changed to something familiar, making his stomach churn with hunger: stale blood on the air. As Karst ventured closer he spotted her — a pale shape.

The only beast he'd met with such an appearance was the ghost woman, and as his blood chilled in his veins and goose-flesh emerged across his body, Karst stopped with a lurch and stared.

She kept backpedaling, keeping her yellow eyes fixed on the prostrate figure. But it made no more movements, laying deathly still even as Haunt's gaze bored into it. Whatever had animated it—a final breath? a neurological misfire? posthumous gasses?—did not repeat. She was fairly certain it was actually dead as first suspected.

Movement out of the corner of her eye made Haunt snap her head in its direction, all the fur along her neck, shoulders and spine prickling. She eyeballed the swarthy wolf with cropped ears, who stared right back at her as if equally spooked. Eventually, she blinked a few times, her attention swinging back and forth between the (probably) dead cougar and her fellow wolf like a pendulum.

The only thought to go through his mind was a strange one, thankfully nobody could reach in there and witness it: 'Was this part of her strange power? She looks younger than she should. Did she take the life from that beast?'

It made as much sense as the rest of Averna's behavior thus far. Kart felt his haunches trembling as fear grew within him; when the wolf turned and stared his way the shaking stopped, as if he were too afraid to move an inch.

Her eyes — what was wrong with her eyes?

His head lowered, his tongue moving so quickly across his lips in deference he could feel his teeth snag across the bottom - then the taste of metal.

The situation reminded her of the time she'd discovered a deer's remains and shared them with a stranger. It had been killed by a mountain lion. Haunt wondered if a deer was responsible for the dead cougar. That would be a fascinating parallel, though as her gaze eventually came to rest exclusively on the deceased cat, she came to doubt that possibility. It looked like it had been in a brutal fight against something armed with tooth and claw. Maybe another cougar? Or a bear?

Her eyes skipped over to the other wolf again. He hadn't moved. Haunt cocked her head slightly, then began moving toward the remains. She approached very slowly and warily, pausing ever few steps to sniff cautiously in the carcass's direction. Finally, she came within a few feet and could look into the cat's glassy eyes. Well, there was only one, which stared emptily toward the sky. The other had been gouged out, the gaping hole as bloody as the rest of the ill-fated feline.

She stood over the corpse for long moments, marveling at its size and the strength of the mysterious apex predator who'd done this kind of damage. Her gaze eventually lifted again to the wolf across the water, something in her gaze beckoning him to come see this. She even twitched her shoulder as if inviting him to come closer. It was as if Haunt needed another witness, as this discovery was beyond belief.

It didn't strike him as strange in any way that the pale woman would be so disinterested in him. She hadn't ever shown a great attachment to him or his brother in the past. It wasn't until those eyes settled on him a second time, holding an invitation, that Karst felt that something had shifted with her.

She must have been possessed. That was the only logical conclusion Karst could reach; she had to have done something to summon a spirit, to give herself over to it. Her eyes were wrong — a burning set of suns, not the ominous fog-white he was used to. Maybe her eyes had always been this way? Karst had never studied Averna's face with great intensity; he knew it was wrong to do that to his superiors. He had the scars to prove it.

He did not dally after that shared look. When the ghost peeled her eyes away from him and set them on something else, Karst moved in. He was reluctant; his tail a straight line to his hocks, not moving. His ears remained pinned. He crawled in an arc towards the carcass and stopped when he saw the one-eyed beast staring back at him.

An empty black socket on one side. So, she had stolen the beast's life; imbued herself with its sight, perhaps. A new reverence overwhelmed Karst as he drew this conclusion, looking carefully between the dead cat and the wolf.

Obviously picking up her silent cue, he came toward her at a steady clip, though there was something very leery about his demeanor. Haunt considered her own cautious approach to the mauled cougar and helpfully supplied, "It's dead."

Her eyes returned to the cat's carcass as the initial novelty began to wear off and practicalities occurred to her. It was a fresh kill and there was hundreds of pounds of flesh here, ripe for the taking. It was a little strange to consider eating a fellow carnivore but meat was meat, wasn't it?

She afforded her canine companion a dubious glance before nosing closer to the bloodied body. There was a deep gash in its haunch and she tentatively applied her teeth, tugging at the torn flesh. She ripped off a mouthful and chewed, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at the gamy flavor.

She only managed a few more mouthfuls before she decided she couldn't stomach any more. Haunt wasn't starving; she could afford to be a little choosy with what she ate. Wrinkling her nose, she turned away from the cat's carcass, leaving it to the other wolf and all the other scavengers that would surely come along.