Lost Creek Hollow all that may seem is but a dream within a dream

With Chaska (hopefully) taken care of, Day felt that it was time to visit the creek once more. He'd fallen back into his noctournal routine, but on this night, once the borders had been thoroughly checked and the scent-marks freshened, Day had set off toward the distant treetops that his eyes could not detect in the dark. If he'd not been there before, he wasn't sure he could've found his way there without the light of the sun, but as it was, he was soon plodding silently through the tall, ungainly trees.

First, he found Chaska's scent and traced it to the outer edges of the territory. It looked like he'd headed in the direction Day had suggested, but to know for sure, he'd have to track the male all the way there. He's not my responsibility, Day thought to himself, turning reluctantly away from the trail. Tonight was for exploring, not worry.

The silver male let his nose take control, following deer trails and grouse scents and whatever else caught his fancy as he wandered through the land. His eyes did not get much use until a ghostly figure flitted across his vision, so unearthly in the dark that Day had to blink - hard and fast - in order to convince himself that it'd been real. But when he opened his eyes, the pale vision was still there.

"Hey," he called out, his voice made hoarse by a sudden spike in anxiety. Was it a ghost? A devil? Day knew that he'd stopped praying, that his relationship with the Cat and Calf had been set aside for some time, now. Was his god only now seeking retribution?