Silverlight Terrace reduced to nothing

a pale woman makes an appearance as ingram begun nudging open the rabbit fur with gentle pushes of his nose; allowing the bones to soak up the moon's beams. whether it helped restore their 'magic' or not, ingram didn't know ...but if there was a place that he felt moon magic: it would be this place where it lingers and resonates strongly.

she has her own rabbit skin; soft clattering of bones within tell-tale as she sits her own spread down.

was she a believer of trikova's unnamed god, too? or was it all one god, in reality? just taking different forms for different wolves, different cultures? before those thoughts and contemplations could consume him, ingram tucked them away for another day.

do the bones speak to you, too? he inquires, figuring that if they did, perhaps he could learn a thing or two from another who practiced the same sort of spirit talking that he did. providing, of course, that was why she carried them around and they were not just trophies she was loathe to part with ( which, two of his own reading bones, admittedly, were ).