Cassiopeia's View Grass is greener right?

For the next moment, the world was still. The air settled, the je ne sais quoi of the moment passed, and it was normal again. The woman’s feathered tail flicked longingly between her hocks; she had not truly expected a response and this nothingness was, for all intents and purposes, just like any other night. Silently, she berated herself. The spirits liked to be heard, but not conversed with! The moment she spoke back to them was always the moment they suddenly became unreachable, and their meanings, opaque. She shouldn’t have even tried — and despite the demure, quiet nature of her communication, for some inexplicable reason, the effort has exhausted her. Farrah let out a small sigh, sat her hips down and cradled them upon the earth.

Farrah always felt the dark knight in her presence, even after he left unceremoniously and all their children had fled and she changed her name to escape the pressure that came from all that… but this time, she could see him; smell him; almost as if he were real. Rarely, did spirits materialize before her — her gods had always been the invisible, omnipresent kind — and Farrah was skeptical. A shiver rippled down her spine [it could not be helped] and her maw cut a critical scowl. Why did her mind have to play tricks on her this way? 

Had she gone truly mad?

Tossing her head side to side, trying to rid herself of the vision, Farrah refused to listen. The dark spirit frittered apologies toward her, the apologies she had always imagined receiving. It was beautiful and Farrah wanted to believe, to give into her insanity that somehow made her feel whole. But that cough — it was too real to be a figment of her imagination. 

Peeling one emerald eye open, Farrah intoned softly “Died?” Very few ghosts were self aware enough to comprehend their aliveness or their deadness… So if he hadn’t died, was he real? She just had to know, even if her forwardness drove the specter away. With little hesitance and several bounding leaps, the small face had closed the distance between him and made to run right straight through him — but she crashed into him, shoulder to shoulder, the tangibility of his being causing her to crumple her to the earth with a thud. He was real.

This discovery [coupled with the pain of her thwarted, final attempt to shoo the ghost] sparked rage within the tiny woman.  At that moment, she felt things towards her once-husband that she had hoped never to feel for anyone. The words came hot, but they came true. "You didn't die — and you didn't come back." Farrah seethed from her place upon the ground. She wasn't sure if she could control her limbs at that moment. ”This is what you deserve?” she snapped, clipping her teeth together and staring up at the bony, frail man above her. Her once-husband even looked still looked like a ghost, even though the physics of the situation spoke otherwise. Surely he had suffered, but her mind and tongue could not help but lash out. She had wanted him to hear these things for so very long, now. “You left — ” Emotion now rose quickly in her throat — and knowing it would soon overcome her — the fiery shewolf tried to organize her harried thoughts and string them together into words. “You… " she gasped, "You promised me…”  Entirely unable to reckon with these current happenings, crystalline tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and percolated down her delicate. cheeks. “I couldn’t do it…” 

“I couldn’t do it alone.”