Deep in the wilds of the Western Wolf Territory, a young wolf named Oliver, around the human age of twenty, ran as fast as he could. He'd been exploring the ruins of a human city with a small group of wolves, when it attacked them. A spirit had come out of thin air, wielding dual sledgehammers, and caught them by surprise. However, Oliver had gotten a good look at the spirit just before he'd run away.
The spirit wore an olive green jumpsuit, a mask, and boot that left echoing footsteps behind him as he sprinted to get away from the spirit. The full moon lit the coat of his white fur with orange tufts as he raced up the old concrete bridge. However, he'd underestimated this spirit. The spirit tackled Oliver's wolf form to the ground. As Oliver's eyes traced up the spirit, there was only a single thought running through his head. For a spirit, this entity was rather warm, and breathing heavily. However, as his eyes landed upon the face of the spirit, the spirit's copper colored eyes glinted in the moonlight.
"Why are you in my city?" Growled the Spirit, eyes full of bloodlust and anger. Oliver yelped before shifting back into his human-like form. However, rather than the cold embrace of death, only the cold winter air embraced his naked body. As he slowly sat up, Oliver looked up to see the spirit was... surprised? However, with the cold air and shock of not being killed, Oliver passed out. The spirit cautiously approached him, only to realize he'd passed out. The spirit took a deep breath of the cold, crisp winter air. "It's gonna snow." He said as he picked up the wolf-creature and carried him on his back.
As the spirit walked, it seemed to take him forever to reach an old farm. It was there he carried the wolf-creature inside, set him down, then started a fire to keep him warm. As he carried a few pieces of timber into the farmhouse, snowflakes began to dance down from the heavens. The spirit sighed and stoked the young flames of the newly lit fire. However, the it wasn't long before the Oliver woke up. As he sat up, he found himself dressed in strange clothes and wrapped in a blanket. However, the voice of the spirit split the air as the logs in the fireplace crackled and shifted.
"I wouldn't run if I were you." The Spirit stared out of the large glass window of the farmhouse. Oliver had a chill run up his spine as he look at the spirit. "A blizzard has settled in above the valley. You wan't make it back to your clan. So I suggest you get comfortable." The entity shot a glance at Oliver before coming to take a seat next to the fire. Oliver's nose twitched, this being, this ghost of a person, smelled like caramel and oak trees. As he looked at the spirit, Oliver moved a bit closer to him.
"W-what are you?" Asked the timid wolf. The entity looked at him and chuckled. "A human. You can call me Spirit." Smiled Spirit with his copper eyes reflecting the light of the fireplace. Oliver's tail wagged rapidly. "I-I'm Oliver, a wolf of the Western Clan... and I think you're supposed to be my mate!" Spirit nearly choked on the bourbon he'd poured himself, and Oliver's cheeks were flushed in a rose red. The two were locked in a stare that was a pure mix of embarassment and intrigue as the fire crackled loudly between the Spectre and the Wolf.