Phantom Hollow oh, who is she?

There were eyes on her.

That familiar prickle up the back of her spine, a loving friend to the girl that had none, drove her to halt her progress. Her tail twitched, the rustle of fur almost too loud in the deep quiet of the wood.

Metis raised her head up, feeling the overused muscles throb with the effort of holding her neck. She turned, discerning eyes finding him in the dark, and she could only snort at the irony. A reaper and a ghost, staring at each other, before one escorted the other to death’s door.

Her nose twitched, inhaling a scent she recognized in the same way she vaguely recognized the wilds she stood in. The briefest impression of brothershadow.

Her head tilted.

Name? Hellfire still on her tongue, im her throat, rasping her voice and burning in her stomach.