Blacktail Deer Plateau the ghosts were howlin' in the late afternoon

The land had fallen to darkness and the unsettling sway of the auburn flames. The chorus of the crickets and the whistle of wind had been lost to the crackle of fire, and to the swift downpour of rain that beat the beast to submission over the course of the night. After he and Mordecai had secured the rest of the pack, Malachi had fallen to exhaustion. The wear of the evening, both mental and physical, rendered him unable to keep his eyes open, and he had succumbed to a restless sleep even against the backdrop of the distant flames. But the fire stole his slumbering mind, and though he had slept, he woke thick with tire and feeling no more rested than the night before.

The land carried a solemn silence, broken only by the churning river that wove tightly around the Plateau's base. Though the air remained heavy with the lingering sting of woodsmoke, the plumes no longer choked him and Malachi welcomed the coolness of the air against the rawness of his throat. A lone howl echoed over the land, a summons - but not of Dante. Malachi's throat tightened and he wrestled to his paws. The dark hours of the storm had passed, but the aftermath brought a different struggle, and one Malachi wasn't sure he wanted to face. Yet it was one they could not ignore, and the young man lent his voice despite the churning of his heart. He needed to be strong, he needed to hope, but all he could wonder was who they would find among the ashes, and all he could remember were the lifeless eyes of his brother's corpse staring from beneath the rocks.

The shock of ashen amidst summer growth greeted Malachi, but he deferred his eyes from the remaining embers to focus on Mordecai. The air hung thicker here, and when he chuffed to make his presence known, a slight cough roused from a returned tickle in his throat. The other man was alone, and though Malachi could still smell traces of Dante, they were faint and swallowed by ash. Malachi tried to ignore what this could mean, though if Dante had entered the fire... it was difficult to imagine anyone could have made their way through the flames alive.