Her fur prickled. What was watching? Who was watching? She shook off the feeling and calling out to Kahlua. "I'm fine... I'm fine.
"Are you really, Gáire?" a voice whispered behind her. She whipped behind her and lost her balance. As she fell, she noticed it was another furry, hiding behind a mask. The mask was bleach white, with crimson swirls and patterns.
The forest floor came up quickly, and she closed her eyes to brace herself for the impact.
None came.
Instead, she still was falling. Her eyes could only see darkness, and she could smell dirt and plants around her.
She reached out to grab something; her claws met a root. Clawing on it, she hung on for dear life. She glanced upwards, trying to see some light. There was none to be seen.
This way... A voice murmured. Gáire glanced around. There wasn't a scent in the air; no one else was with her.
Gáire, this way.... the voice continued. This way..... Spirit of Greeting.
----
"What a pathetic creature," the figure mused as he glided down from the tree tops. His feet didn't make a sound, and his long mane billowed from behind him. He was wearing a dark cloak; the only part of his fur you could see were his ears and mane.
He glanced around for the fox. "She disappeared..." he thought.
Suddenly, a quiver went through his heart.
"One of the Seven of Spirit is here." He gasped. Grabbing at his chest, his heart thudded like a bass drum. "Beginning, Departure, Greeting, Belief, Passion, Destruction, and Gates... Which one of my fellow kin is here?"