Phantom Hollow sweet potato pie

The abrupt movement had come as a shock to the wandering hound. As quickly as his legs had attempted to pull him closer to the slumbering creature, they stopped dead in their tracks. He kicked up bits of snow and chunks of debris as he demanded a halt to his own limbs. Then, he peered at the other wolf with wide eyes and rigid legs that refused to move any closer. Smokestep noted the bristling of the stranger's pelt and the curling of his dark lip. Still, he did not know if he had conjured this ghostly figure or if the bristling fellow was actually there.

Lowering his skull a bit and swinging his tail to the side, Smokestep peered for a second longer before he drew his tongue across his lips and flattened the length of his ears to his crown. “Ahoy,” he attempted, though his voice sounded almost strangled in his throat and his eyes darted wildly from side to side. “Ye scared me, mate.” That wasn't entirely true, because Smokestep still felt fear creeping in his gut. Nothing frightened him more than the prospect of madness, but he waited to see if this brute would respond.