Bearclaw Valley Ghosts of our past

The breeze danced against her, and Nanook closed her eyes against the the sun's striking rays and the cool spring air. A tiredness clung to the Apaata and weighed her down like water-logged fur. Her thoughts never ceased to question and accuse, and Nanook drifted from the wear of it all. Sleep would bring reprieve. When she woke, she would start anew. But sleep did not come. A sudden noise sounded like thunder, and she jerked awake, and locked her legs against the ground to push herself into an awkward twist.

Wide and startled eyes fell on the shadow who approached, and her first thought went to the boy who had chased her into the Valley. But he had been feral and thin, and wild like Nanook. This wolf looked nothing like him. For they loomed above her, dark, curved, and well-fed, with a hardened stare and mossy eyes she had seen before.

"Des - "

Her voice petered out, and her sister's name fell to the flood of confusion that swept through her. No. Silvertip. Silvertip? The girl from Silvertip - the one from the Plateau. Va... Val... Her eyes narrowed and she strained to remember. "Valette?" Desna. Nanook clenched her jaw. The Valley played tricks on her - yet in the midst of this place, the name felt so wrong, and the stare accused her enough to be both.