A Song Among the Stars

Around the bend, tucked in a grove, or appearing over the horizon, the pack always appears like the unobtrusive approach of morning mist; not quite there until, all at once, they are gathered ahead of you, their haunting, lilting howls piercing the silence. A wolf with tuffs of moss interspersed in her fur approaches with a wave of her tail. She isn't surprised to see you—she knew you would come, like the rest of the pack.

The pack welcomes you with hospitality and kindness, showing you around their meger home and even letting you join in their nightly songs to the stars. But as you sit beside the mossy wolf and listen as the entire pack lifts their voices in lyrical harmony, you can't quite help but sense that there's something big they know but you don't. Did that wolf's fur glimmer like a star or were you imagining it? Was that patch of thick, soft moss to your left you there before? You could've sworn it wasn't.

When it's time to leave, you say your goodbyes and head off your way, disquiet following in your pawsteps. You decide to glance back for a final look at the pack but when you do, you see nothing. It's like they were never there.