Cricket Creek Bog you'll get it in the next life,

Until the next big thing —

it often felt as if Alara spent her life suspended in those moments between. Forever waiting, somehow. Waiting for disaster; waiting for a miracle. She was never quite sure.

Or maybe just waiting for the next opportunity to feel part of the world again, to be seen and known and to know herself. In the absence of eyes upon her, she felt half a ghost. But here and now there was a wolf, a dark spindly creature, and Alara felt more real than ever. He was a thing fashioned in a sharp method, almost arachnid; other.

Immediately Alara was set at ease, though she didn't speak just yet. She lingered near, wandering closer in a wide circle that did little to answer the question of whether she truly meant to approach, or simply held her own interest in what might lurk beneath the water.