Cricket Creek Bog a gentle breeze or lightning in a storm

Weejay was reassured by the stranger's grin -- which might have unnerved a smarter or more wary wolf. Weejay was neither -- while she wasn't necessarily stupid, she hadn't had many bad interactions with strangers. Not enough to hate them yet, anyway.

Her eyes widened as Maiira mentioned magic, here of all places! She could not help the involuntary, almost greedy dart of her eyes as she looked around, as if she would see magic in the flesh for the first time. But all she saw were creepers and vines and moss, and her new friend. No magic.

She was about to ask, how Maiira could tell, when she mentioned ghosts. Something cold bolted through Weejay's heart, and left her limbs shaking and quivery. Ghosts... ghosts  -- like her mom?

"Is my mom here?" Weejay suddenly spoke up, her voice having taken on a quiet and sorrowful desperation. She wanted more than anything to talk, touch, or see Wildfire again.. and if this place was magic, it could do that for her, right? She'd been good -- she had always been a good girl -- so maybe these magic spirits wouldn't mind?