Handy had drawn his hammer, its familiar weight more for comfort than any genuine belief he could fight off the sounds of ghosts with a lump of steel. His grip tightened as they continued along. The noises did not increase, but neither did they go away. There was neither rhyme nor reason to them, they came and went as they pleased, for this was their home to haunt, and the human and stag were merely disturbed guests. For Handy at least, the voices stopped when he spied something out of the corner of his helmet slit. He turned. There, not more than twenty feet from them in the darkness, stood a deer. A stag. It was stark white and bright, as if radiating light, but the darkness around it did not retreat, nor did it illuminate its surroundings. It merely stood there, placid, looking at them. It seemed… off, different somehow. Handy called out to Whirlwind who turned around, when Handy looked back the white stag had disappeared. He blinked. 