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

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A hoarse sound called out in the dark, clear and close, disrupting the melodous music of the hollow around. The white lady cut her humm short and lifted her head, slowly and carefully, her ever wide, pale red eyes staring straight through the man as silvery water dripped from her chin. She could just barely make out his gray figure in the dark of the night; it looked like a grey blob that blended all too well with the inky blue and purple environment around them. Were it not for Sister Moon's generous beams falling down upon him and giving the figure a faint illustrous outline, the apparation might have had to wonder if anyone was really there; if she'd heard the "Hey" at all.

"Hello brother," she greeted calmly, her face void of emotion and her tone light and airy as always. 

This distance would not do, she decided. Even after growing accustomed to her poor vision, she still wanted to try and see him a little better. Plus, with the earthy smelling waters of the creek on her nose,  masking all other smells, the stranger's scent was also hard to make out, and she needed that far more than her sight. Aware she might unsettle him but not caring to acknowledge it, she leaned her weight into her hind legs, bunching up her pale body so that she might spring forward, then released herself into a graceful leap over the thin creek. She glided her way over a few more trickling streams, this time allowing her paws to get wet (she hadn't realized there were multiple bodies of water), and kept trotting until the stranger was another muzzle length in front of her. She then stopped and tilted her head at the male, a single puff of breath materialzing in front of her in the icy air.

Though some of his features were more evident now, he still looked like a big grey blur; his coat still caomuflauging well with the Sister's night. His scent, however, was much stronger, and that brought her comfort, causing her ghostly tail to whisk slowly from side to side for a wag or two. He carried many scents on his pelt, not only that of the hollow and himself, but of other wolves as well. Perhaps his family. Whether or not they were related by blood, she referred to all packs as families, just as she referred to males as brothers and females as sisters. She turned her muzzle away from him and lifted her nose to the wind, trying to see if she could smell the other wolves. "Many brothers and sisters..." She murmured thoughtfully, not able to smell them exactly, but commenting on the scents of his pelt.
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