The Sentinels Such a lonely day, and it's mine

It wasn't the ghost of his wife. It wasn't a ghost at all. She spoke, and her presence was solid and comforting, not the ethereal lightness of a spirit. Shale didn't used to believe in scary tales, but he had felt things before that seemed to fly in the face of every belief he had once held. Seen things, wandering alone, hungry and despondent. Whether they were hallucinations or actual beings was still unknown to him.

"Narcisa," he responded, tasting the name gently on his tongue. "I'm Shale. Is this your home?"

He had seen white wolves before, but this woman was something different entirely. A snowy pelt, with tan spots here and there. But it was her eyes that drew him in. They were the color of pale dawn, pink and blue, something he'd never seen before in a wolf. She was thin, too thin--he wondered if she was hungry, and was having trouble bringing down prey.