Morningside Cuesta your ex-lover is dead

staying vague, tagging @Mona for visibility

The sun-touched ghost is reluctant to part from this piece of his past, found so simply, so perfectly — but he knows now that the melody leads him true. When the keening song drifts to him on the breeze again, he knows he must follow. He calls a promise of return, but he does not know when; tomorrow, a week from now? The music will guide him when the time comes.
His path demands vigilance of him for a time, until he comes to the gentle slope of an open field. The song begins to fade, and briefly panic spikes in his heart. He closes his eyes, and in his mind he sees:

Silver and black, a deep shadow cast across him.

The moon looming close, a bright silver eye always watching.

A million stars blinking, blinking, blinking — until they flicker out.

He opens them, and he sees a wolf; a stranger in the distance, a splash of grey in the midst of the field. He lets out a long breath and draws nearer, argent eyes sharp and hollow.