Shadowwyn Moor Scorpius

Esma was not a kid, who wandered around much. The very prospect of even going so far as to not being able to see the safety of her leg of the woods horrified her. Nothing bad had ever happened to her, but the world of the unknown was so much bigger than she was comfortable with. She knew every tree, creek and corner in Lost Creek hollow and they all gave her a frame, a sense of structure and routine to her daily life. Outside was chaos and therefore not considered safe. 

Yet as it happens with all young wolves, there was a seed of curiousity in her as well. Most of the time she kept it well hidden and tame, but occasionally Esma would spot something that she liked or an item, which's soul she would want to take with her. Then she would test, how far she was comfortable going from the Riverclan's borders, and stayed within that distance. How could she tell? If her heartbeat was steady and panic was not rising in the pit of her stomach, then she was fine. 

She had been drawn to Shadowyn moors by the howling sound. It had always been there - sometimes louder, sometimes more quiet - but up until today she had told herself a story of a pack of angry ghosts living there. Screaming out their protest to the world and ready to... do something nasty to anyone, who happened to be in the vicinity. So she had decided that she was ready not only to listen to them, but see them in the faces as well.

Therefore around midnight she carefully left the warmth of her mother's side and slunk towards the borders. Then directed herself towards the moors, where the howling today was pretty low-level. Which Esma considered to be a good thing, because she figured that one's connections with the supernatural should begin step-by-step. When almost there, however, her step slowed, until she came to a halt and cast a glance over her shoulder. She no longer felt sure. 

What if the ghosts did not want to be seen or found? It seemed like such a good excuse to turn on her heel and leave. But - no. Not tonight. She steadied herself, drew in a deep breath, exhaled and ran those remaining hundred of feet to the place. She stopped, she looked and grew concerned. The howling was still there, but no one was visible. 

Wraen had not had many expectations about, what afterlife would bring her, and until she was brought back here, she had not really mourned or yearned for anyone that she had left behind. Or those she did not meet in her pocket of Paradise. Only now, after visiting Moonspear and finding, what she assumed to be place of Arcturus's demise, she began to wonder, if she could make a similar visit to the last place she knew her brother had lived and according to Maia - met his end. 

Lost Creek Hollow had been a place she had passed through or even hunted in during that long summer in Sunspire, when food began to run low and they had begun to struggle to feed all of the hungry mouths there. But in her haste she had never truly stopped to have a good look at it or even enjoy the scenery. Now she did in the light of the moon and noticed, how very similar this forest was to, what had once been Donnelaith, where her and Terance's story had begun. 

A family lived here as well and she wondered, whether any of them were Terance's and his second wife's children or grandchildren even. Yet, as much as she sought for likeness, she did not see any. They were foreign to her. What was more - she did not sense his presence here either. Neither as a ghost, nor as form of faint aura of the bones, in case he had been burried there. It was disappointing at first, but then Wraen realized that unlike in case of Arcturus, she did not really know yet, what she would have told her brother, if she had in fact found him. There was a feeling of guilt for things having ended the way they had and therefore she needed time to think things over. 

Even after many weeks spent here in this world, she had not really figured out, which living people could see her or not. In the beginning she had speculated that she was visible only to those people, who knew her or had had a connection with her. But after few encounters with others, who had never seen her or known her in person, her earlier firmly held belief proved not to be true. And now - she sensed a pair of eyes looking at her from the distance and she turned to see, who the observer was. 

A very young wolf with a piebald coat and green eyes so similiar to the colour that appeared in every generation of Redleaf wolves. Wide-eyed and somewhat scared too. "Do not fear," she told the girl, approaching her slowly and keeping a friendly appearance. "I am Wraen, I am an old, but but kind ghost. And I will be honored to make your acquaintance," she said, stopping right in front of the girl and sitting down. 

Then something changed in the air, twisted and morphed and all of a sudden there was an elderly she-wolf standing before Esma and addressing her. The girl, who a moment earlier had really wanted to see a ghost, was no longer sure that this was exactly, what she desired. It was already hard for her to communicate with ease to people, who she was familiar with and lived together. And she had not spoken or interacted with anyone, who did not belong to that circle of acquaintances. Now and then new faces joined the group, proving that there were wolves living elsewhere too. And, while playing on her own, she liked to imagine, what would they be like or how different they would look or act, but in every such journey all the characters wore familiar faces. 

So - in a nutshell - this ghost, who was not even a person anymore, was the first outsider that Esma had made a contact with. "Esma," she whispered her name, avoiding the other wolf's - Wraen's - gaze and letting it wander around. Nervousness and uneasiness began to build in the pit of her stomach, while in her mind there was a fierce battle between her wish to flee the scene dearly and remain seated, because the adult had not told her that she was free to leave. 

Despite her best attempts, the kid appeared to be even more distressed by Wraen's presence. This was a new experience for her, because she was a small and lean wolf in stature, no one had ever been scared of her during her life, even though she had claimed to be a witch or "the worst creature possible to encounter in the woods" many times. Now - she took a step back and made a swirl around to see, if - her ghostly self aside - there was something amiss with her form. Let's say - her skeleton being visible, horns growing or her body melting? None of those. Maybe the darkness made her glow a bit brighter than it had been during the daylight hours, but nothing else was peculiar. 

She wanted to continue to talk, but all the questions that came to her mind and that would have been innocent under other circumstances, now would be wrong and probably scare the kid further. Therefore she decided to ease in the conversation with a story of her own: "Do you live over there in the Lost Creek Hollow? My brother Terance lived there once. With his wife Treason and their kids. Maybe you have heard about them?"

Esma nodded eagerly, glad that this was an easy question to answer. The way the stranger called her home was not the name she knew it by though. "'tis Riverclan," she corrected in a whisper. Then there came a question about some relative of hers that also might have lived there, but she quickly went over the list of people that were in the ranks, and no one had these names. Therefore she shook her head in denial. Mom, who knew a lot and who had told her kids a great deal about the heritage and history of the pack, would have mentioned these people, if they were of importance. 

"You are a wolf? A real one?" she blurted, because Wraen did not feel like one to her. She almost passed for one, but she could tell that something was off. Besides - even though she felt ashamed of such a silly question the moment she said it, Esma had a feeling that the ghost would not mind.

It seemed that engaging Esma to help her with something had broken the ice a little. Unfortunately the child had no knowledge of the people Wraen was talking about and - to be honest - she had not expected anything either. Riverclan reminded her of stories about fairies or the water nymphs, though the girl did not possess the beauty of the either one of the folk. This did not mean that Wraen thought her ugly - not quite that. Esma was unusual - not a traditional charmer, but rather a person with a secret. You looked at her twice just because one could sense that there was a lot more going on behind that green gaze than it was perceptible. 

Wraen laughed at the next question and looked up to the sky, trying to find the best answer. "I certainly was born a wolf and I grew up and lived as one too. And I am sure I died as such too. Never had a doubt about my identity, thougt at times I might have felt more like a bird, but that was a fleeting feeling," she mused. "But now... I am a reflection of a wolf I was. The shell of mine lies buried in an Enchanted forest, where it feeds the plants and little critters and becomes the earth again. While me - the mind, the consciousness - is wandering the universe. And presently haunting these grounds," she said.

"What about you? Do you feel like a real wolf? Or would you rather be something else?" she asked.

Wraen told a story about herself and Esma listened in awe. She did not understand in the beginning, why would this wolf have her body elsewhere than here, only to remember a moment later that - oh - right, ghosts were dead people still walking. The idea of becoming a bird seemed delightful, it had not occurred to her that there was a chance to become something else, but she had observed the winged elves quite often and wished that she could be granted the power to fly just for a moment. Life up in the trees had to be interesting in a way, why else would birds prefer to live there?

"I..." she began and fell silent, because she so wanted to impress this stranger with just a good of a story, but nothing interesting came to her mind. She was desperately ordinary. A nobody in the big scheme of things, where Atka and Sos and even adults had important roles to fulfill, while she spent her days chasing boredom away with fantasies. "I don't know. I am a wolf," she stated, though the intonation at the end sounded almost like a question. "Can I be anything else?" an inquiry, as if Esma was asking a permission. 

"I cannot reply to that question in your place, child," Wraen shook her head smiling, finding Esma's shyness and innocence adorable. "But there is nothing wrong in you feeling at home inside your own skin," she added. "That is the form you were born with and you will spend the rest of your life in. But gods have given the most wonderful instrument in the world to overcome these challenges," she told, lifting her paw and brushing it against her forehead. "In your dreams you can be anything. Imagining being something else takes a bit of practice and time spent observing the creature or thing you want to embody, but over time it gets easier," she told, but did not expect for the kid to understand everything. 

"Let's see, if it works," she said, closing her eyes and thinking hard. All of a sudden her form dissolved in billions of tiny, shiny particles and a moment later they were reassembled in a little bird, Wraen's namesake. It fluttered its wings, tweeted something and then returned to Wraen's wolf form again. "Never tried it in my life before. But if I can - maybe you can too." This was just a theory. In previous encounters with the living she had inadvertently entered their dreamscape. And once there, free of shackles of the real world, anything could happen. 

Esma's eyes widened, when the wolf before her morphed into a tiny bird and then regained its form again. She had known of magic - the kind of her mom told her, when things were going on about Atka and Sos - but she had never witnessed it with her own eyes. And she had to admit that an actual experience trumped anything that her mind could have come up with. Her excitement for the spectacle bubbled to the surface and her previously shy and somewhat cowed expression changed into a happy genuine smile, lighting up her features and reflecting in her green gaze. It was very rare, when she showed emotions before other people, therefore this was the first. 

Challenged to try it out herself, however, made her contemplative and unsure. Esma was convinced that most people were better at everything than her, therefore this beat any motivation of trying it herself. She believed that it either had to be perfection or nothing at all. The fear of failure and embarrassment that would naturally follow, did not even allow her to try out things she would have liked to do. But then... the wolf had said that the imagination was a very powerful tool and, while she never shared the things that went on inside her mind with others, thus giving an impression of a dull and boring person, there was a little hope in her that at least in this field in life she was good at. Because it did not appear that others tended to lose themselves in the dreamland as she did. 

"Alright," she nodded, eager to try, but still unsure. There was a whole list of questions on, how exactly Wraen had achieved the transformation. By analogy of the rituals Ash Paw carried out to talk with the gods, it could not be as simple as just having a thought and then having it happen, right? But she was not sure either, what exactly should she ask. And then - what if this worked differently for different people. "I will be... a... deer!" she said, squeezed her eyes shut and the creases on her forehead told, how much the kid was focusing on the task. Nothing happened for a while and then slowly and gradually a set of antlers grew on top of her head. Esma felt the change and impatient to see the result, she opened her eyes. 

Much to her disappointment - with the exception of the weight of her newly imagined crown, the rest of the body had remained the same. "It did not work," she turned to Wraen, as if she would know the answer of why and how. 

Esma's transformation did not go as planned, leaving her looking like a some sort of a creature that had stepped out right out of the myths about the old gods. Wraen found the kid's disappointment in the failed attempt to change endearing and therefore encouraged her with a: "Don't you worry at all. I think that you may simply have a lot of deer-like qualities already, therefore a pair of antlers was the only touch you really needed." All things considered, that was very generous coming from her, because the girl before her, who yet had to fully grow in her adult shoes, was stocky and heavily built. More like a lean bear-youngster than the kin of the kings of the forests and meadows. On the other hand - deer just like wolves came in all shapes and sizes. So, there had to be Esma look-alikes as well. 

"Do you have a favorite story?" she asked, curious to know, how familiar the kid was to the subject that was so close to Wraen's heart. 

"I don't think so," Esma was not convinced and, when she voiced it out loud, the antlers disappeared and she was a wolf once again. Wraen somehow did not seem bothered by doing things to perfection, when the girl had been taught that details mattered. First, when you communicated with the bear gods and - second - when you interacted with your packmates. And she was so afraid of making mistakes or forgetting something important, that she did not try at all. She usually was content observing Ash Paw doing the preparations for worship and helping on small tasks. She for the most part avoided being in the company of others. They always appeared to her to be better equipped to fit in this world, that she did not want to spoil the image with her unworthy presence. The only time she let go of all the pretense was, when she was in her own company. There she made her own rules and by definition could not do a thing wrong. 

One could argue that she was doing fairly well in Wraen's ghostly presence, but most likely it was because Esma was not sure that this particular ghost was not a part of a very vivid dream. If that was not the case, then a ghost was not a person, even if they had been one in the past. So - again - she could avoid making mistakes. 

Asked about stories, Esma had to think. Was it a challenge? Would they judge her answer? She furrowed her brow battling between the doubts and fears of not making a good impression and simultaneously digging through her memory to find any story she had heard or liked. Multi-tasking was not easy and she came up with nothing. "No," she shook her head. 

"You are the most peculiar kid I have ever met," Wraen said smiling, mindful that her tone implied of being peculiar as a good thing. She was a person, who believed in the good and great in everyone, and she had a feeling that Esma had a lot of potential, but for whatever reason was holding herself back. There was definitely light in her, she could read it in her eyes, but the girl had put up blinds and was careful of not letting it shine. 

She wanted to ask - why? - but this would probably confuse the kid further. With her being so young still it could be that she herself did not know that. Or... she may be hiding without even realizing it. "You remind me of a bog turtle. They are small things with shells, where they hide from the danger. Live in bogs and you are lucky to see one, because they prefer their own company," she told.

"Ever seen them?" she asked, sure that the answer would be negative. 

"No," Esma shook her head, but was intrigued by the description nonetheless. Mom had told her that there would be a time, when their spirit animal would be chosen or it would choose her, and she was pretty sure that in the long list of animals, turtle had not been among them. At least the name did not sound familiar to her. Could it be that she had found out hers already? Was this ghost a messenger of the two great bear gods? Was it really that easy - just name the animal and it is yours?

So many questions, but she did not dare to ask any one of them. Because if Wraen truly was connected to Atka and Sos, then Esma would embarrass her family name by revealing her ignorance. Gods were fickle beings and she did not wish to ruin any of the hard work Ash Paw had done by paying respect and worship to them. Instead she decided on a more harmless topic. "Can you tell a story about a turtle?" she asked. 

"Well, there is one fairly popular and old one, dealing with the turtle's ground-dwelling cousin tortoise. They are thought to be the slowest animals in the world, but he managed to beat a hare in a race," Wraen was glad to be offered a topic, because with Esma being so closed off, there was a real danger that their conversation would cease and both would be left in an awkward silence. 

"The hare was a fast creature - could outrun anyone and even now - if you have attempted to hunt one down, you know that they are not as easy to catch as one might think," she told. "He was very proud of his skill and tended to boast about it lavishly. Until one day a tortoise was fed up with the fellow and challenged him for a race," she paused, giving Esma time to imagine the scene. 

"The hare was confident of him winning the slow animal, but was not a person to shy away from a challenge. They agreed on a distance and took off. The hare ran as fast as he could, leaving the tortoise in cloud of dust and far behind. Just before the established finish line the hare stopped, looked back and decided that there was still plenty of time for him and lied down for a nap.

In the meanwhile the tortoise kept going, making one step after another, never stopped or felt discouraged and in the end he passed the sleeping hare at the finish line and won the race," Wraen finished. "The moral of the story is that you should not listen to those, who boast too much, and feel discouraged by them. Instead keep on your own track, do it in your own time and as you see fit and keep your eyes on the goal. And you will get there in the end."

Aesop's fable "The Tortoise and the Hare"

Esma listened to the story very carefully, memorizing every detail of it. While she was not someone prone to boasting (quite the opposite - she did not believe herself being much good at anything), she had the ability to listen and remember. All those hours spent in her own world, coming up with imaginary conversations and coming up with various origin stories of things or events she did not fully understand, had sharpened her memory. To the point that she was already a sponge with nearly infinite capacity to collect information. The only things that were lacking were experience in analyzing it, understanding the context and interpreting the facts correctly. 

She enjoyed the story and liked the central character - turtle/tortoise - the alien reptile with a tough shell. She could easily see herself in that race and - oh - how she understood, what it meant to be slow and how difficult it was to keep on moving, when everyone else around you seemed to possess the speed and were able to move at a pace that Esma had hard time keeping up with. According to this story though - going at your own pace with your sight fixed on the goal ahead - was perfectly alright as well. "Where can you find them - the turtles?" she asked, thinking about the spirit animals and familiars and how wonderful it would be to have one with her. A pet, a friend, who was similar to you. 

"Well, I have met the critters only once - in a bog. That's a place that has once been a lake and now is in the process of becoming a meadow," Wraen explained. "They like water and sunlight. And I have heard that they sleep during winter. So - my best guess is that you go seek them in the summer," she told, but even in the proper season there was no guarantees that she would find any. "And I have heard from travelers that have gone far beyond, where I have ever set my foot, that there are also species that live in the warm sea waters. The young emerge from the sand and make their way to the water and then - if they are lucky - spend the rest of their lives there," she finished. 

"Have you been out exploring a lot?" she asked the girl. "I remember that, when my two siblings - sister and brother - were your age, there was nothing that could keep them at home. They were out and about all the time."

A bog. Summer. Sunlight.

Esma repeated these three keywords over and over again, so that she would not forget them. She also made herself a promise to find that turtle, when the winter ended. She could not explain, why, but it felt very important to see it with her own eyes. The she-wolf went on about another subject that she did not fully pay attention to, until she was asked a question. And as always with questions that in some way probed her knowledge or experience, she got slightly nervous and unwilling to answer. 

"Uh... yeah...? Maybe?" she mumbled, looking around uneasily, feeling small and insignificant before this ghost, who she viewed as worldly and very, very, very important. "I know Riverclan well. And... yeah..." she sighed. She had never had much inclination to leave her home and up until now had only dared to investigate the nearest territories around her homeland. However, her trips outside were always accompanied by very vivid imaginary components, therefore she often felt that she had walked miles for hours, when in reality she had stayed in the same small area for a long time. 

"I... have to go," she said, suddenly eager to end the conversation and have no other questions asked. She had got, what she wanted.

The child did not seem to be inclined to chat too much or too long. Since Wraen was a person, who could fill an empty room with her words alone, she did not wish to do it, if her companion was unwilling. From the conversations we have with people, we all take, what we need, and conclude them, when we feel like it is time. For a moment there the ghost lady was inclined to convince the girl otherwise, because she felt that somewhere behind those protective barriers the girl had built around her soul, lived a person she would very much like to have as a friend. Unfortunately the fate had had it that Wraen had passed away years before Esma had come into this world, thus making this particular friendship impossible.

"Good luck in finding your turtle!" she told the kid sincerely and watched her depart. The sun was rising at the horizon and, when the first rays of caught her ghostly form, the dream had come to an end and Wraen disappeared.