Wapun Meadow ethereal

Rough was the distraction that took her from the world of spirits. Where everything had been alive, whispering from all sides all sorts of sweet words, where the world had been colourful all the way towards the east, it all fell flat and silent the second that she heard the voice. The priest turned her head towards the cause of the disturbance, only to see a vaguely familiar face. It had been a long time since she had been called from her slumber, and even throughout this journey it did not happen. In front of her stood the brown wolf who was similar to her own stature; small but less fragile. Striking green eyes looked at her and ethereal white eyes stared back with an emptiness akin to the state she had been in for many months now.

Powergirl.

The priest remembered the name and as she tasted it upon her tongue it felt as though it was a name from a previous life, a previous wolf. Her voice was rough and gravelly from disuse, her throat hoarse and her body not used to this much use. Powergirl had once been a great investment of interest. But since then the priest had had others to share her life with; some of them to be ended prematurely, some to be discarded. None had held the same investment of interest that Powergirl once had and there was a short spark of interest there on the priest's side -- on the ghost's side -- but soon it simmered down towards her purpose: the spirits.

She licked her lips and turned back east, where her spirits beckoned her. The distraction had paused their whispers but even now a few of them were starting to tug at her again, whispering soft words in foreign languages in her ears. Who was she, carrier of this mortal husk, to disobey them? She nodded towards Powergirl and turned towards the east, looking out over the hollow with white ears pressed towards it -- what lie there that her spirits wished her to see so badly?