Blackfoot Forest rippling out through his past and future

Slavik hadn’t heard the lore, as he was a lone traveler and he had yet to spend the night in these woods. So he took Winterbane’ word for it, and listened with intrigue. Haunted? He hardly believed in that sort of paranormal activity. Slavik’s family had raised him staunchly to believe that when wolves die they become part of the earth, and are reborn anew in some other life form. As a tree, or a dragonfly or so forth. He’d been told ghost stories as a youngster but only put credibility towards what his parents had taught. Now though, he contemplated being a ghost; what horrible manner of thing must a wolf do in their life to be denied the natural cycle of life and death?

He figured that Winterbane was trying to express another reason for not being fond of this forest, but he’d only induced more awe from Slavik. To each their own, said the grayscale wolf, and Slavik nodded thoughtfully. The other was introduced as Winterbane, a name that Slavik immediately thought of as badass. When asked if he were from around here, the young male let out a light snort, not at all. I used to live in a pack way down south of here. The Kendry’s, he shared.