The Sentinels I'm afraid to sleep because of what haunts me

"Wraaaaen," Bronco groaned, and he rolled his eyes as he laughed almost reluctantly. "You. Are. Not. A. Hag." He beamed at her now, and had reached out to gently prod her in the side with one forepaw to get his point across with each word he spoke. However, he wasn't stupid and he knew it wasn't a good idea to poke someone without expecting they might poke back- so he bounded a couple steps away in case she decided to retaliate. "Unless maybe a hag means something different to you than it does to me," He said, willing to meet her halfway. "See, I hear 'hag' and I think like...Old, mean, snarky, witchy, evil-type. And you're none of those, so." He said, with a shrug. 

She did, apparently, have a cheeky side, and seemed inclined to yearn for a ife of freedom after death- where she could be as silly as she wanted, pulling tricks on wolves. Still, nothing terribly harmful- but mischevious. "Alright, you can be a poltergeist if you want," He said. "But y'also have to be on my side, OK? Like a guardian-poltergeist. Maybe you can pull a trick on me every now an' again so I know you're hanging around, but...Nothng too scary." He said, before he added "And like...Not for another long time." Because while it would have been fun to have a guardian poltergeist Wraen, he'd much rather have her as a friend.