Blackbeak Bluff with all these memories bittersweet

She felt his eyes bore into her, and her own squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to pretend that no one was there. Nyx was alone in these fields, among these rocks, beneath these grim rain clouds, free from the weight of her woes and the judgement of others. Briefly, she blinked over a peppered shoulder to see the stranger's pace quicken and, eager to avoid having to acknowledge him, the agouti loner hurried ahead among the long grass.

To the side of a large, jutting rock she pressed her thinning frame firmly. She was safer there, she knew, hidden away rather than vulnerable in the open, and she pricked a raven-tipped ear in the direction of padding paws. Nyx held her breath, listening to the rogue's approach until his footfalls fell silent nearby. She didn't doubt that he could find her if he really wanted to, so arched her neck to peek curiously around to catch a glimpse of the one who'd followed her.

The last thing she expected to see was a ghost.

Dirge.

Her heart thrummed at the sight of her wayward brother, and from her maw came a strained whine as she struggled to figure out how she was supposed to respond. Nyx moved tentatively on trembling limbs from her hiding place to better look upon him, the very tip of her tail twitching anxiously as she dared to reach out gingerly with her muzzle and confirm that he could not possibly be real.