Blacktail Deer Plateau the ghosts were howlin' in the late afternoon

For @Malachi and any others that want to help search for Osprey following the forest fire thread. :)

The rain had come, the fire doused, and all they could account for were accounted for. As simply as it could have been put, things could have been much worse. They were bad enough by the time that sunrise had come rolling back around — the clear skies and light revealed the ugly scar that had been seared into the swath of forestry now turned to ruin. The smell of woodsmoke had yet to leave him; Mordecai could smell it everywhere, no doubt reeking of it himself. He lingered near the break of where flames had been hours before, eyes firmly set upon what still smoldered. Which wasn't much on the grand scheme of things. They could have lost the plateau entirely, but the storm had been gracious in its effort to finally wash away all traces of open flame.

The downside to that, he realized as he tested the air, was that it had taken the scents with it as well. He found little traces of Dante intermingling here and there, but whether or not his grayscaled friend had come out of it alive was questionable. The same went for Osprey as well. Mordecai turned his attention to the greenery behind him, wondering if there were any that still stirred in the great wood. Whether or not they were brave to come and take in the damage done, or simply curious enough to lay eyes on it all. He called for them, knowing full and well of whether or not they would answer him. It was a simple call, one asking for their aid to explore what had become of their home. What they would find, he couldn't have guessed. But it was better to know than not know and by all estimates, he wanted to know what lied within those charred woods.

murder by death — ash

The land had fallen to darkness and the unsettling sway of the auburn flames. The chorus of the crickets and the whistle of wind had been lost to the crackle of fire, and to the swift downpour of rain that beat the beast to submission over the course of the night. After he and Mordecai had secured the rest of the pack, Malachi had fallen to exhaustion. The wear of the evening, both mental and physical, rendered him unable to keep his eyes open, and he had succumbed to a restless sleep even against the backdrop of the distant flames. But the fire stole his slumbering mind, and though he had slept, he woke thick with tire and feeling no more rested than the night before.

The land carried a solemn silence, broken only by the churning river that wove tightly around the Plateau's base. Though the air remained heavy with the lingering sting of woodsmoke, the plumes no longer choked him and Malachi welcomed the coolness of the air against the rawness of his throat. A lone howl echoed over the land, a summons - but not of Dante. Malachi's throat tightened and he wrestled to his paws. The dark hours of the storm had passed, but the aftermath brought a different struggle, and one Malachi wasn't sure he wanted to face. Yet it was one they could not ignore, and the young man lent his voice despite the churning of his heart. He needed to be strong, he needed to hope, but all he could wonder was who they would find among the ashes, and all he could remember were the lifeless eyes of his brother's corpse staring from beneath the rocks.

The shock of ashen amidst summer growth greeted Malachi, but he deferred his eyes from the remaining embers to focus on Mordecai. The air hung thicker here, and when he chuffed to make his presence known, a slight cough roused from a returned tickle in his throat. The other man was alone, and though Malachi could still smell traces of Dante, they were faint and swallowed by ash. Malachi tried to ignore what this could mean, though if Dante had entered the fire... it was difficult to imagine anyone could have made their way through the flames alive.

fire brought forth new life when it burned, but it also destroyed.

osprey had not been found once the blaze had died, and dante had sought her tracks. the ecru man picked his way across the charred swale to join malachi and mordecai. his eyes were heavy with weariness, but he offered them both a nod of acknowledgment and respect. he did not believe dante had died, but the pack would look to himself and to blue willow for guidance.

murkwater eyes turned toward the ash-fall and he sighed. paws began to carry him toward the swathe of burned earth; he would fall to search for osprey soon.

you both write so lovely. <3

As his call faded away into the dawnlight and became replaced by the ambient din, Mordecai felt himself draw into waiting. More importantly, he fell into thinking as well. For as much as he desired to start without aid and venture into that hallowed land, he felt that it was unwise. Perhaps it was a fail-safe to save him from some horror of finding what he did not want to find, or perhaps it was simply because after that night there was little willpower to go it alone. He did not want to think of the thoughts that came, but processed them anyway. Processed the options, weighed the answers and decisions. Hoped for the best and prepared over and over for the worst.

Malachi was the first to emerge from the world around him, as though for a moment life's draw distance was at an all-time low. Mordecai offered him a weary smile of thanks, only to allow it to be interrupted by Lasher coming along as well. And Lasher proceeded onward past them without fanfare. Without consideration or desire to wait, Mordecai turned to follow him. He closed in the distance that was between them, choosing to bump his muzzle against the smoky flank of their beta male. His offer of support; he would not have to cross that charred line alone, or needn't carry the burden upon just his shoulders. If others came, there was little question that they could follow the swath soon to be cut across what had once been thick forest.

The same to you <3

He offered each packmate a greeting in return - to Mordecai, a grateful blink, and to Lasher, a solemn bow of his head. They had run with the pack much longer than he, and the grief he felt could not contend with what he imagined they and the rest of the pack must have felt right now. The Plateau was barely his home, but he would stand by them no matter how weak his connections had been before the flames.

Lasher and Mordecai trekked forward with silence, and Malachi gave them space before closing in the rear. Embers littered the ground in a controlled burn, and he pawed a rain of dirt over a large cluster to smother the flickering remants of the fire's course. If not for the brutal scar the flames had left behind, Malachi could have convinced himself the fire had been a cruel trick of a night terror. He secretly wished he could, but what they faced was real, and no amount of mental persuasion could separate him from this reality. He kept careful watch on his companions ahead, half expecting the embers to lick them away at any moment, and darted his eyes to scour left and right for any motion between the trees. In time they would see if their lost had survived, or if they had indeed succumbed to the wild death they had been powerless to stop.

<3

lasher gave mordecai a pointed look, grateful for his silent support. murkwater gaze turned to the watchful malachi for a moment, and then the beta faced ahead. the spill of settled ash had turned everything to somber silence, and it prickled eerily at him as he walked. pawing here and there, the man sought to uncover a gasping muzzle or crooked foreleg, but nothing he found.

just the barest hint of osprey's fire-watered scent and a thin tendril of dante's own. disappointment and a surge of fear roiled in his gut; he heaved a quiet sight but pressed forth after his brief pause, determined to uncover some clue as to where the silvery wolfess and their alpha had gone.

The ash felt bizaare underneath his feet as they progressed. Soft and yet gritty, unquestionably leaving a rather unclean feeling clinging to the bottoms of his feet. He stepped gingerly over blackened logs that were once young trees, as though somehow within they would have still contained the immense heat of a fire once alive. Yet in the wake of such a disaster all he could smell were the lingering tinges of wolves that had already trekked through, muddied with the woodsmoke and charcoal.

Dante hadn't come back to them yet, but Mordecai was willing to believe that he was out there somewhere. Perhaps further out and higher up. With Osprey, tucked away somewhere safe and sound. Fire was enough to even drive those with a high will to flee and panic, to fear the lands. Even the same went for what remained; Mordecai hoped that for whatever reason, they would be among the few that would ever trek through the state of the forest this way.

But more than ever, he hoped that they would not come across the worst of what they could find.

They searched the grounds for bodies and bones, but the only limbs Malachi saw were the fire-scorched branches of charcoaled trees. He let his eyes stray from the path scourged through the ash by his superiors to look again for life beyond. But the further they drew into the crumbling copse, the more the world that had just been filled with the greenness of growth shuddered in greyscale as pallid as Dante's coat.

The lack of trails and scent lines wrapped Malachi in an eerie sense of deja-vu, and his imagination filled the gap with the memory of Njal's retreating body when he stole after the lynx who had taken Larus from the den. The situations couldn't have been more different, but his ticking mind forged parallels between them, and the same anger he had felt that night stabbed his chest again. But overpowering this was a throbbing guilt, and a frustration aimed wholly at himself. When the greyscale had leapt toward the flames, at least Mordecai had tried to follow. What had he done but watched? They shouldn't have let Dante go alone - one of them should have followed. They might have been taken by the flames themselves, but what if their decision had changed the outcome? What if their choice had meant seeing Osprey and Dante alive today?

He wished he had followed into the thick of the smoke, but all the frustration and regret in the world couldn't change what had transpired last night. The future curved mercilessly with the choices they had made. It always had and it always would. And he could not blame Dante for his reckless abandon, because he knew if Osprey had been a wolf he'd loved, he would have done the same with no thought to the consequence to himself - and he wouldn't have wanted anyone else to put themselves in the way of danger for that.

Malachi looked ahead to Mordecai and Lasher, wondering their thoughts beyond their quiet exteriors. Did they struggle the same? They had come to search, and if that meant anything, then maybe they had hope. He didn't think he could say the same for himself; he had come with the desire to help, because they owed it to the missing to search, and perhaps that was why they searched, too.

With guided steps, Malachi turned to the right and cut a path away from his companions. They would cover more ground by fanning out, and with the trees spindly and stripped of their growth, he doubted they would lose sight of each other even if they walked distant paths in the burned down woods.

in silence he moved. lasher did not know that he still held hope, for dante or for osprey, but for the sake of his pack it must appear that he did. he moved quietly across the swathes of ash upon the ground, sniffing here and there for scents that perhaps he had missed before. emotion gripped him and he paused in the burned ruins of their forest, gazing wearily upon at the canopy.

Perhaps we could start to fade this out? I suck at keeping up lately. :C

The further in they had gone, the more the quiet seemed to become deafening. The din of the living world behind them grew faint and still. Mordecai could not help but feel the rush of unnerving reality come to him, though it did not deter him from his path through the ashy wastes. He too paused for a moment, if only to compose himself and take in what now surrounded them entirely. Somewhere in the barren and blackened woods he had separated himself from the others, but the urge to seek them out did not come to him. He dared not to breathe deeply, though the itching in his lungs wanted him to. There was enough ash inhaled to last a lifetime in him, or so he felt.

Pressing onward, Mordecai didn't think about his actual motion across the scorched earth, and kicked a stone loose. It went out ahead of him, clacking against other earthy materials that he swiftly passed by. There was nothing here, at least nothing living other than the trio of bodies that trekked through it now.

They had been three, and now he walked alone, with a hope that dwindled with every step and empty sweep of the charcoal woods he took. Though Malachi scouted the grave of ash, nothing but silence met him. Not even the birds chose to sing. Save for their party, the forest was empty of beast and bird alike. If there had been bodies, they would have heard the scavengers for a far: the birds were a beacon for the dead. But there was only silence, and heavy ash, and what Malachi took as the undeniable fact that there was nothing left of Dante or Osprey for them to find.

Last post from me (:

fading!

eventually he followed the pair, the burnt loam clinging to his paws, his fur, his hackles. it assaulted his nostrils with its empty scent, and clung wearily at his heart. in time he would give up the lingering ghost of the hunt and return to lie at blue willow's feet, but for now he must maintain the veneer of strength, for those who followed.