Blackfeather Woods phantom of borrowed life

From behind the spirit approached the wolf who stood in wonder. She was a beast of duality herself, the spirit could tell, with the white and grey mixed together yet so separate from one another. Nothing like the spirit, the wispy gangly half-year-old with her scrawny fur made of the purest white. She shone in the darkness of the forest, and stark white eyes to match her coat stared straight into the souls of others.

Even though the question had been posed to none in particular, the spirit that had approached from behind halted not far from the white-and-grey and answered the given question. "The home of spirits." Her posture remained neutral for the toiling of wolves did not matter much to the pale child; she was one foot in the spirit realm, after all, so why should she care of earthly matters such as who dominated who?