Sunset Valley Underneath it all, we're just savages.

The Golden Ghost escaped the clutches of the dark woods, their safety the only thing that had calmed him down for as long as he had been there. But there was little to hunt anymore, his scent so prominent that it sent critters running before he even got the chance to spot them. Staying in his bubble would not help him anymore. He had to move if he wished to survive. He had to move if he were to find home before winter.

The summer sun danced upon his bleak coat, rings of the same golden hue around his pupils, looking about for anything out of the ordinary. He recognized these lands from his time living in Easthollow. He had hunted a lot for the pack back then. For his friends... How he missed them. Though he couldn't tell them, he deeply valued the friendships he had build with them, but his wanderings and curiosity had led him astray. Now he couldn't find them anymore. Would they even recognize me? I am such a ghost. Invisible, invisible.

When he spotted water, his first instinct was to go and have a drink. Though the woods had some bodies of water, they were few and far between and he had always liked running streams and rivers better. He dipped his muzzle gracefully in the water, slurping it in instead of licking it up. Licking up water was quite hard without a tongue in one's mouth, but Calloon had learned to live with it. When he lifted his gaze, he spotted the female. Apparently the ghost wasn't so invisible as he felt and with a lowered tail he backed off a few steps.