Phantom Hollow sweet potato pie

Wary and fearful of the other body that had suddenly appeared, the sleep-deprived creature noisily began to trek toward him. Both eyes were locked on the figure, and even Smokestep started to wonder if he was imagining the shape of the stranger in the quiet wood. For how shockingly quiet it was, he would not have been surprised. There were stories of wolves going mad on the islands of his father's home. Skellige had told his boy that they would maroon those who behaved poorly and would often find them later, unhinged and frantic in comparison to what they had once been. The seclusion was crippling.

Quite suddenly, the silence had been broken by the faint rumbles of a snore. Finding this a compelling reason to continue approaching the pale figure beneath the tree, Smokestep picked up his pace and continued forward at a brisk trot. His eyes never left the body of what he assumed to be another wolf; he did not want to find that his mind had slipped far enough to have falsely conjured it.