The Ghost of Christmas Past directs those who find themselves following Mackenzie to what looks to be a snow-covered wood. The air is still, crisp, and clear with a sharp and vivid clarity that only the wilderness can really bring. The spirit leads those that follow along a winding gametrail, barely visible through the fresh snow until at last, the thick evergreen trees break into the open to showcase a cozy wooden cabin tucked away from the world. A few tendrils of smoke rise from the chimney--and in instant, the Ghost and their companions are within.
"A comfortable place, if being off the beaten path suits," the Ghost remarks.
It's a small building, without running water and electricity provided by a rumbling generator but it is comfortable and warm within. Crowded, too, with five people filling its space. There are only a few rooms, with the main one set aside for living space, a hearth, and a kitchen. The interior is decorated in evergreen limbs, a small Christmas tree and a few strands of colored lights that have perhaps seen better days. This is where the Ghost takes people. Sprawled out on a battered couch before the hearthfire is Mackenzie, her eyes closed as she seems to be contentedly napping up a storm. There's an old boombox-style tape deck on the dining room table, scratchily blasting out Christmas carols. Curled before the fire, also clearly asleep is a wolf, mottled grey and gold coat still a little damp from the snow outside.
The kitchen is crowded with three others: one, a woman with olive skin and long dark hair tied back into a braid is in the midst of dressing a cut of meat to go into the oven, chattering away with a dark-skinned young man with a close-cropped mop of curly hair.
"Eli, are you done chopping those potatoes yet? I want to get them on the stove once the venison is in?" She asks with the air of someone used to getting what she wants. Or at least used to being listened to.
"I'm workin' on it," the young man, Eli obviously, says in reply. "Why don't you wake up Kenzie or Howls and get them to help, too?"
"Because," says the third, another young woman with fair skin and strawberry blonde hair she's tucked into a messy bun, "They're the ones who went out and caught Christmas dinner, you dorkus."
"I would've gone if they'd asked," insists the young man with a cheeky grin. The three of them continue to playfully bicker between themselves as cooking proceed apace. The Ghost gives a slight shake of their head before they speak.
"There was a time, brief as it was, when she was warm and surrounded by those she loves. This was but the previous Christmas for her. How much things change," they say in their calm voice, and move to lean over the couch as if they might brush some of the sleeping Mackenzie's hair from her face.
"She was happier then. Or perhaps she might even be described simply as happy. As she is now, I cannot say. It is not my realm to describe the present."
Past
"A comfortable place, if being off the beaten path suits," the Ghost remarks.
It's a small building, without running water and electricity provided by a rumbling generator but it is comfortable and warm within. Crowded, too, with five people filling its space. There are only a few rooms, with the main one set aside for living space, a hearth, and a kitchen. The interior is decorated in evergreen limbs, a small Christmas tree and a few strands of colored lights that have perhaps seen better days. This is where the Ghost takes people. Sprawled out on a battered couch before the hearthfire is Mackenzie, her eyes closed as she seems to be contentedly napping up a storm. There's an old boombox-style tape deck on the dining room table, scratchily blasting out Christmas carols. Curled before the fire, also clearly asleep is a wolf, mottled grey and gold coat still a little damp from the snow outside.
The kitchen is crowded with three others: one, a woman with olive skin and long dark hair tied back into a braid is in the midst of dressing a cut of meat to go into the oven, chattering away with a dark-skinned young man with a close-cropped mop of curly hair.
"Eli, are you done chopping those potatoes yet? I want to get them on the stove once the venison is in?" She asks with the air of someone used to getting what she wants. Or at least used to being listened to.
"I'm workin' on it," the young man, Eli obviously, says in reply. "Why don't you wake up Kenzie or Howls and get them to help, too?"
"Because," says the third, another young woman with fair skin and strawberry blonde hair she's tucked into a messy bun, "They're the ones who went out and caught Christmas dinner, you dorkus."
"I would've gone if they'd asked," insists the young man with a cheeky grin. The three of them continue to playfully bicker between themselves as cooking proceed apace. The Ghost gives a slight shake of their head before they speak.
"There was a time, brief as it was, when she was warm and surrounded by those she loves. This was but the previous Christmas for her. How much things change," they say in their calm voice, and move to lean over the couch as if they might brush some of the sleeping Mackenzie's hair from her face.
"She was happier then. Or perhaps she might even be described simply as happy. As she is now, I cannot say. It is not my realm to describe the present."