Barrow Fields und sahn sich nur noch zuweilen im Traum;

the moment stretches, snaps, passes. the sun has come to sink finally below the horizon, and with the coming darkness does the shadow settle into herself once more. they sit for a moment, two atop the cairn, until once more he speaks, this time of the mundane. everything, muses the wraith, is beautiful beneath the moonlight, all of one's darkness bleeding out into that surrounding; made something, someone else. 

she sits a moment longer, but something calls, low and keening. the sound is odd as it is filtered through the field, not immediately identifiable as any one thing. the wraith rises, a glance to the man with half a face. a dip of her muzzle, a moment, lingering, and then she descends the cairn, joining the other reaching shadows. in a moment, she is lost among them, silence settling. 

the call does not come again.