Wapun Meadow the needy eat man-mades, they wear phony clothes

For just a moment night and day approached and looked upon each other. Thief's steps quickened to betray some of her enthusiasm and it was not until the priest's single word -- Thief -- that her counterpart's steps quickened. The haze of whispers lifted as though a veil from before her eyes had been lifted. This -- this was what they had been leading her towards, this was her destination and now they allowed her to slip back into the mortal world for a bit longer, for her paws to be grounded again as a serenade of kisses was thrown upon her face and nips were everywhere.

The gestures were returned in kind, albeit a bit less brusque and rough as her dark counterpart's; hers were more nimble and in some way ethereal, ginger touches that sometimes missed a stark sign that she lived only partially in this mortal world and in this mortal husk of hers.

The priest wondered where her sibling had been but it did not matter much right now. Her tail whirred and her lips showed a rare smile. So this where spirits lead, said the priest in her broken language, for her tongue was not as practised as that of most of the wolves that lived on the outside more. She looked upon her counterpart and wondered what had taken her away from the forest and towards these lands. Was it the spirits, too?