You hear a scream in the dead of night -- is it a coyote, or something else?
The short trek beyond the Surge had satisfied the ghost’s itchy paws for the time being. He had been cooped up on the mountain forest for too long—fretting over the neighbours and the itchy, wandering paws of his children. He had needed to get out of his own head before he was devoured by his thoughts or drove his mate mad with his constant worrying (even though they were both worried). Things had been good for them after the move for Driftwood. They had found somewhere that felt like home. Their family was growing. They had loyal subordinates that remained at their side despite all the drama from their north. And they had ideal allies. The source of his fretting over the Keep wolves was the safety of his children. He did not know what they would do to the Stark youth if they were out on their own. Lachesis was a man of his word—he would not harm the Keep youth—but he did not know if the vermin to the north would honour the same code. They did not seem to respect borders or hunting ground; he did not think they would respect children.
He had been pacing the outside of the borders beneath a canopy of stars, his large paws sifting through the damp grass. The sky had just begun to clear up after an unexpected midnight rain storm, allowing a cool breathe to push through the trees. He shivered, but not from the cold. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the air, causing his pace to quicken and the fur on the back of his neck to bristle. He could not smell anything on the wind but something did not seem right. Feel right.
A sudden scream caused him to skid to an abrupt halt. His head spun around wildly as he struggled to locate where it originated from. It did not sound like any animal he had encountered before… possibly a coyote… but they had all gone… hadn’t they? His brows pinched together with concern as his upper lip curled. An intruder, perhaps? But who else could be out this late at night…?