//------------------------------// // Prologue // Story: Spirits Collide: Ice and Harmony // by Coruscating Cloak //------------------------------// Disclaimer: hasbro and the hub own MLP FIM and the people at White Wolf own the World of darkness games, All of them. I only own my original characters , thank you The air was cool and crisp with late autumn chill. Families bustle around while costumed children rush up to doors with the chorus of "Trick or Treat" even on the edges of the suburbs. None noticed five people dressed too lightly leaving the constant glow of the streetlights and festivities. At least if the were noticed they were written off as young lovers or miscreants off to the woods to drink away from the noise ordinance in the town. to be fair they were going into the woods. In contrast the woods are quiet, almost eerie, with barely a gust of wind to rattle the branches. The soft moonlight only sometimes penetrating the trees, The five reach a small pool that seems to still farther as they approach until it reflects the half moon like a black mirror. the Five disappear into it's cool embrace with barely a ripple. ======== With a sharp shake the wolf sends water cascading into the grass around him, Immediately aware that something is wrong, the familiar ebb and flow of the world in which he had been walking absent and the air too crisp, the trees too dark. Worse, the panting breaths of his pack-mates jarringly absent. He turns back to the pool, he draws on his heritage and begins to wade in, only to burst out again sneezing and sputtering. Frustrated he looks up at the moon, expecting to see the waxing half moon that hung in the sky when he left, he is instead greeted by an alien sky with a strange moon hanging full above him. His hackles rise and he starts to circle the pool, attempting to open the bridge again, he is again thwarted by water attempting to enter his lungs. He stops him self mid shake as he hears footsteps approaching. He slinks back into the bushes watching a small but well worn path with eyes half lidded to hide their natural reflective shine. Soon a cloaked figure comes into view, Four hooves and buckets slung across it's back like saddle bags. The wolf sniffs the air trying to scent if it is an entity that should not be. The creature turns it's head and using it's mouth begins filling the buckets from the clear pong before turning to leave. The wolf follows as the creature leaves, keeping to the bushes. The world is strange, the air heavy with essence, he finds his tongue lolling out in the canine equivalent of a grin. Realizing this he snaps his jaw shut with an audible "click" and silently curses. The creature stops, it's hooded head swiveling back and forth before it continues on, slightly faster. The wolf continues following, mostly relying on sound then sight which is why he after a few moments hears a strange lilting voice. "I should not be so quick to fright, even on such as Nightmare Night". The words sound like a self admonishment and he tilts his head hearing this. That the creature can talk is both worrying and heartening, regardless he must stay on his guard, Soon he is at the edge of a clearing decorated with masks and assorted fetishes. What he would give to have one of his pack-mates there, she could tell the purpose at glance. No use worrying about it now, he reaches out tasting the essence in the air, the clearing tastes of Peace and Protection, so it is a sanctuary of some sort. Turning the wolf retreats deeper into the forest, intent on first gaining shelter, then he can decide on a course of action. Later he lays in a make shift shelter, and looks over the night. He and his pack-mates entered the pool that was their gate to the Hisil, the realm of the spirits, and were to hunt a hind spirit that they had made a pact with both to sate their natures and to re-mark their territory. It became a nightmare of shadow and flame and they were separated. Hardening his eyes and heart against grief, he looks up at the strange moon hanging in the sky "Thunderbird." he murmurs, then after a pause "No, Mother Luna, Father Wolf, Please watch them until we can find each other." He falls into a fitful sleep, unsure if his request was heard. ====== They are running, The ebbs and currents of the world in their little corner laden with essence tinted as peace and prosperity, the trees which seem to be the the embodiment of trees in all seasons flicker by, he can hear brass panting her tongue lolling out in happiness both to be hunting and to be running. A new scent teases their noses and Bright veers off into his part, meant to push the hind closer to where the pack wants it to go. Brass' panting changes, she must have closed her mouth, he notes with amusement. A change in the air smelling like something left to rot, a wound. his lips pull back in a snarl he releases a short howl, answered by Bright eyes they break off their hunt. The smell gets stronger, vaguely familiar and making his hackles rise. Brass is growling, Silver can be heard his footsteps heavier he must have shifted to a larger form, Dove even quieter then normal which is almost terrifying. He jumps to the side startled as a thorn that should no be their pierces his shoulder. glancing at it his blood chills. darting forward he draws on the speed of Father Wolf and Primal form that Mother Luna offers soon leaving his pack-mates behind as he runs. Rounding a cops of trees he can see the wound, gaping in the ground and air, wicked jade and silver thorns growing out of it. With a low growl he begins circling both to wait for his pack-mates and to look for a way to close this wound. "Ah just as a well trained dog should, the hound has returned"