Adventures of a Wind-Child

by KNinjagoNexoFan47391

A collection of 31 stories (and possibly a bonus) based off of the Morrotober 2024 prompts. Will include some crossovers as well as AUs and original Ninjago fanfics. Keep an eye out for Star Wars, Paw Patrol, The Lego Ninjago Movie, The Wingfeather Saga, and more! Will try and update every Saturday.

31. What Cannot Be Seen

Soo...last prompted story! YAY! But don't worry. The best is yet to come, as I have not just one, but TWO bonus stories to fall after this. Consider this my encore/gift to you for being so patient!

Anyway, just a general author's note now-the two versions of the song that Rocky and Skye sing in the story are both inspired by the song "I'll Try" from the Disney movie "Return to Neverland." I hope you enjoy them!

Also, the background for the first half of this story comes from the Paw Patrol episode, "Pups and the Werepuppy." However, in the original episode, Rocky's transformation in fact was only a dream, whereas in this story, it was real.

And just another FYI note...this story can be considered to be separate from my other Ninjago/Paw Patrol crossovers, in that the pups don't know about Ninjago, the Ninja, or any of the battles associated with their world.

Without further ado, here's Story #31-"What Cannot Be Seen."

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Story #31: What Cannot Be Seen

Ninjago/Paw Patrol crossover

writing prompt (modified): Halloween; candy; bats; werepuppy

Summary: On the night Rocky is transformed into a werepuppy, he finds a secret guardian in a ghost-teen named Morro, who can control the wind but cannot touch water due to his ghostly nature. When Rocky tells the other pups about Morro, they don't believe that Rocky's new friend is real. But on the night of Halloween, Rocky and Skye get trapped in a cave full of bats. Will Morro be able to come through for somepup who does not believe he exists?

---

Darkness. That was the first thing Morro was aware of. It was dark…and it was cold…and he was scared.

Darkness…all around him.

Darkness…everywhere he looked.

And it was cold, and it was empty, and it was numb.

As he slowly regained consciousness, he felt so dazed and confused and lost.

He felt so afraid.

So afraid within himself.

It was just so dark, so cold, so grim.

Like he was trapped within a ghastly, ghostly nightmare.

Like he'd been trapped in it for a long, long time.

The chill was seeping into his bones, stilling his nerves, making him feel drowsy and so, so numb. His joints were little shafts of ice—his limbs limp and lifeless. He felt strangely incorporeal, as if he weren't completely solid, as if a part of him was bubbled up in a cushy force field that defied gravity.

His emerald-green eyes were empty, like no one was there. His shaggy, silky mop of raven-black hair, accented by its unique emerald-green hair streak, was dark and dusky, shrouded by the sea of darkness all around him. His heart barely beat. His pulse was frail and feeble, his nerves lifeless, his frame numb and void of any sensation or awareness. His body was grounded and unstable at the same time, as if he wasn't fully alive or fully departed, but somewhere in the middle. His ears did not hear—his hands did not feel—he could not speak, or move, or even breathe. There was no life, no light, no breath, no heartbeat—only a dreary subconsciousness. There was no happiness, no love, no laughter, no joy or hope or peace.

Where…am…I? he wondered to himself. How did I get here?!

He didn't feel right. This whole thing didn't feel right. It was as if he were not fully awake, nor fully asleep, but caught in the middle, trapped in a strange, dreamy semiconsciousness. Every sense was stretched thin, every thrum of thought muted and strained, almost as if he was barely clinging to life as it was.

As if his life was already over—his light was being snuffed out—and his heart, his mind, his very core were all but ready to succumb to eternal slumber.

As if he were asleep yet not at rest.

As if he were awake yet not alert.

He shut his eyes again, then silently reopened them. Still nothing but pitch-black.

What was wrong with him? Had he gone blind? Why was this happening?

And then he heard a sound. Thump, thump. It was the sound of his heartbeat. Thump-thump, thump-thump.

And only then did he realize—he was alive.

Not dead—not drowned in the Endless Sea—but alive.

And yet, he had no idea why.

He was starting to feel currents of Wind Power—his Wind Power—ebbing and flowing and pulsing underneath his very skin, gently coursing through his veins, energizing his sleepy nerves, quickening his sluggish pulse. But he still couldn't see anything. Nothing around him lent itself to illuminate his darkened sight and mental blindness. But then, all of a sudden, the atmosphere began to lighten. Piercing darkness was gradually giving way to rippling, resonating, humming pinpricks of penetrating light. At first, Morro couldn't recall what the familiar points of light were. And that's when the swirling whirlwind mists of his foggy memory parted for just a moment, and he remembered.

They were stars.

He was seeing the stars.

As he gazed up at them, staring deeply into their joyful, soulful depths of grand and glorious light, they seemed to drive the darkness away—and all of a sudden, he wasn't scared anymore.

The wind-child slowly became aware that his consciousness was gently rising, like a leaf floating upward on the tides of a lazy summer breeze. The dagger-like shards of cold that had pierced his core and twisted taut were receding, and as the shadows drifted away completely, he opened his mouth and sucked in a sharply gasping, wheezy breath, almost as if he had forgotten how to breathe just moments before and had now just remembered.

In, hold…out, hold.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on pulling breath in, holding it, and then slowly letting it out.

In, hold…out, hold…

In, hold…out, hold…

In, hold…out, hold…

Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe. Relax and breathe.

Breathe, little one. Just breathe. Relax and breathe.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of eternities, the wind-child softly stirred and pried open his stubbornly Deepstone-weighted eyes to find himself in a dense, midnight-darkened forest. It seemed to him a realm of quiet mystery, shrouded in darkness and bathed in the soft, silvery light of the moon. The towering trees around him stood like silent sentinels, their branches whispering secrets to each other as a passing gentle breeze rustled their leaves with a sound like that of joyous, childlike laughter. The air was cool and crisp, carrying an earthy scent of moss and damp soil as Morro got to his feet and peered around, his keen eyes taking in every detail of this bizarre yet strangely familiar place.

The canopy above him was a patchwork of shadows and moonbeams, creating an intricate dance of light and darkness on the forest floor. Every now and then, a sliver of moonlight broke through, casting an airy, ethereal glow on the underbrush, gently illuminating the delicate patterns of leafy ferns and fragrant wildflowers.

As Morro slowly trotted through this marvelous, magical place, the forest around him was motionless but for the swaying of the tree's higher boughs in the cool midnight gusts of wind that passed, silent but for the chirps of crickets, twills of nightingales, and breezy humming of cicadas, dark but for the brilliant lanterns of fireflies as they danced to the heart-song of the twinkling stars above.

A luna moth gently drifted by on a silent breeze, its wings softly flapping as it flew whisper-quiet through the midnight air. Somewhere close by, a barn owl let out a thoughtful, sage-sounding hoot as it surveyed the forest with piercing and watchful yet tender eyes. A nightingale alighted in a tree, and a fawn and his mother stopped to gaze upon the wind-child in their midst. Stars in their wondrous, eternal dance gently chimed and hummed with gladness at the beautiful sight of the returned ghost-child wandering through their watchful domain.

In the relative stillness, the forest felt serene, tranquil, yet set apart and almost otherworldly, as if it existed in a realm where time and space had no power and no influence. Light and shadow seemed to intermesh and intertwine, their semblances and similitudes cast about by the silvery light of the full moon, creating an ever-shifting landscape, where familiar shapes seemed to take on new and mysterious forms in Morro's mind and ghostly sight.

Even amidst the darkness, the forest exuded a strange sense of calm and tranquility, inviting all those who entered to explore its depths and uncover its hidden wonders. It was a place where imagination could roam free—where the thin, wiry line between reality and fantasy blurred under the watchful gaze of the midnight moon.

Morro smiled, his heart swelling with awe and wonder at all the sights and sounds and sensations surrounding him, cocooning him in a long-awaited sense of comfort and peace. Never since he'd been banished to the Cursed Realm could he have imagined the thrill of once again being able to feel the wind on his face and the coolness of the midnight air and the warm, tingling feeling of being awake, at rest, free…

A bubbly laugh of joy and childish delight suddenly spilled out of Morro's lips, and tiny breezes swirled around his hands as he threw his head back and cried out, "I'm free! I'm finally free!" Feeling a whirlwind of exhilaration and cheerfulness welling within his core, he began to twirl and whirl and dance about the clearing, crowing and giggling and singing with sheer giddiness and unbridled excitement. After all these years of being trapped in a dark and dismal realm that he could never hope to escape the shadows of, he was free—free—free!

But then, he stopped in his tracks, his feet suddenly rooted to the ground as he put a white-cold, ghostly hand on his chin and pondered to himself, But…free to do what, exactly? I have to have been freed for a reason, but the question is, what?

Shaking his head in confusion, he slowly gazed around him, looking for any sign of someone or something that could help him figure out why he had been drawn here and what he was meant to do. He was just about to give up hope and look for a place to bed down for the night when he suddenly heard a strange commotion off in the distance. Sneaking and slinking his way through the trees, he bobbed and weaved and zigzagged back and forth through the bushes, ducking under fallen limbs, wriggling his way through stands of brush, stumbling and tripping his way over mossy logs and through tight openings in rocky nooks and boulder-filled crannies, until he finally made his way to the forest's edge.

Making no more noise than a cat's paws, he slowly sidled his way around the edge of the wood, keeping the forest always on his left and the field he was in on his right. As he approached the borders of a meadowy clearing, the outlines of eight figures and the crackling light of a campfire came into view. Curiosity piqued, he drew ever-so-slowly closer, keeping his head low, his ghostly form making no sound as he moved, yet the questions in his mind remaining boisterously loud and insistent.

As he approached the clearing's edge, he realized that the commotion he'd heard back in the forest was the sound of overlapping voices around the campfire. Intrigued, he slithered his way behind a bush and peaked his head ever-so-slightly over the top, not wanting to alert the group to his presence too soon.

To his surprise, most of the voices involved in the conversation seemed to belong to pups. Morro couldn't help but blink in shock. Since when do pups talk? he thought to himself, his curiosity piqued even more. Crouching down into a hunkered-down ball, he peered cautiously through the foliage, watching the group as they chatted and conversed happily with one another, joking and laughing and sometimes breaking out into song randomly, all the while speaking from hearts overflowing with the kind of love and cheerfulness only a happy family can bring.

"Camping out is the best!" exclaimed a German shepherd pup, letting out a delighted sigh as he added, "Nothing beats fresh air!"

"Or fresh marshmallows!" added a grey mixed-breed pup, his eyes twinkling in excitement. Morro smiled to himself, agreeing wholeheartedly with the pup—but he couldn't help but notice that this pup kept glancing behind him, almost as if he could sense Morro's presence. Not wanting to be detected, Morro slunk down farther into the bush, wincing as hundreds of razor-sharp thorns jabbed into his elbows and knees. If there was one thing that he could still clearly, poignantly feel as a ghost, it was pain—and this did not feel good, like at all.

The group of pups, of course, were oblivious to Morro's discomfort and simply went on talking. "Just look at the big, beautiful full moon," sighed a cockapoo pup happily to herself as she popped a marshmallow into her mouth. "It looks like a silver dollar in a wondrously misty dream!"

"Full moon? Oh, that reminds me of a story!" exclaimed an older man with a rugged appearance. "I ain't sure I should be tellin' it though. It might be a bit scary!"

"That's okay. It's fun to hear scary stories around the campfire," said a teenage boy with a red cap, clearly the leader of the group. Morro gulped a little at that, wondering what kind of spooky stories the rugged mountain man was thinking of telling. But once again, the pups that the wind-child found himself spying on didn't notice.

"Yeah!" chorused the pups enthusiastically, their tails wagging so fiercely it was a miracle they hadn't fallen off yet. The mixed-breed pup howled playfully, joining in the excitement before yawning softly and panting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a little pink flag.

"All righty, then!" the old man continued, clearing his throat before dropping into an eerie storytelling tone and beginning to tell his scary tale. "Back in the day, whenever there was a full moon, people got real careful about going outside 'cause that's when it could come creeping and a-peeping..."

A chocolate-brown Labrador pup gasped dramatically at that, clearly engrossed in the story already.

"...and a-prowling and a-howling!" the old man finished, his voice filled with an eerie suspense and mysterious spookiness.

A Dalmatian and the mixed-breed pup from before both gasped in unison, their eyes growing wide as grapefruits and their little legs beginning to tremble slightly as the mountain man declared, "They call it... the wild werepuppy!"

The pups suddenly all shouted in surprise as a sticky marshmallow flew into the mixed-breed pup's face, causing everyone to burst into laughter at the sight. The mixed-breed pup, however, was not as amused.

"Yuck! Guess I have to wash this off, like with water. Ugh!" the gray pup muttered in disgust, slinking off sulkily to the edge of a small pond to wash the marshmallow off his snout.

"Tell us more about werepuppies, Uncle Otis," the Labrador pup begged. Morro grinned, thinking that this was gonna be goo-ood!

"Well, they're mighty strong, and can jump super far! With a howl you can hear for miles!" Uncle Otis replied, demonstrating as he sprang to his feet and threw his head back before letting out an ear-piercing, wolfish howl. Morro clapped his hands over his ears at the sudden sound before screwing up the courage to uncover his ears and keep watching.

"I wouldn't want to meet a werepuppy." an English bulldog pup admitted. "I'd be too scared!"

"Me too." the Dalmatian pup added, cocking his head to one side as he asked in a slightly quivering voice, "What do you do if you run into a werepuppy?"

"Well, you can change him back into a regular puppy," Uncle Otis explained, "by taking him to Sunflower Valley. One sniff of a sunflower turns 'em from ferocious werepuppies back into cute little normal puppies."

That's when the cockapoo pup tilted her own head in curiosity and murmured, "'Back'? But how do cute normal puppies turn into ferocious werepuppies in the first place?"

"Well, legend has it that a puppy's got to be standing in water that's reflecting the full moon," Uncle Otis revealed. And that's when it clicked. Soaking Otis's words in, the English bulldog pup repeated softly, "Standing in water?" before gasping in terrified horror and crying out, "Rocky!"

Hearing the bulldog's voice, Rocky, the mixed-breed pup, snapped his head up so suddenly his neck cricked, his gaze darting around in confusion as he asked, "What? Do I still have marshmallow on my nose?" But then he noticed that he was standing in water reflecting the full moon, and in that moment, his eyes too went wide as grapefruits as he realized, "Oh. Uh-oh!"

Morro couldn't help but let out another audible gulp. He knew that the werepuppy story was just a legend, but all the same…what if it wasn't?

What if it was real?

And if it was real, how could he, a ghost with no ability to touch water whatsoever without dissolving into a thousand ghost particles, help the poor pup in his dire predicament?

---

Later that night, the camp was very, very quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the wind and the crackling of the dying campfire. And yet—the pups and Ryder were not alone. They had a ghostly visitor, though they did not know it yet.

Morro's ghostly form glided silently among the tents as he snuck and skulked around the camp, curious about the pups and their human companion, yet at the same time wondering if he could learn more about his purpose here and how he was meant to interact with these strangers that he'd stumbled upon. He had so many questions he wanted to ask them. Who were they? How could the pups talk? Did they have Elemental Powers, or was it something else that gave them the power of speech? And what were they doing all the way out here? Didn't they have a home of their own? And if they did, where did they live exactly? There were so many unanswered inquiries swirling around in Morro's mind that it was starting to make his head spin just trying to keep them all straight in his thinking.

As he moved closer to one of the tents, a quiet conversation suddenly caught his attention. Unsure whether his presence would be welcome, he peeked around the corner of the tent and silently peered inside, smiling as he spotted the pups serenely asleep, their gentle snores filling the air with a wondrous tranquility and peace. Rocky, however, seemed restless, whimpering softly in his sleep—and Morro could not blame him. The prospect of possibly shapeshifting into a werepuppy was enough to make Morro's own skin crawl, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how much worse it was for the poor gray mixed-breed.

Seeing Rocky's distress, Ryder gently shook the young pup awake, his voice calm and reassuring as he whispered, "Rocky, you know that the werepuppy is just a fun, spooky story, right?"

Rocky blinked sleepily and nodded his agreement, answering quietly so as not to wake the others, "I know, Ryder. Try as I might, I'm not really going to turn into a werepuppy. That'd be silly."

"Okay, good night, buddy," Ryder said, patting Rocky's head affectionately as he gave one last smile and started to head out of the tent. Rocky smiled back and then let out a loud yawn, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion as he grew warmer and drowsier by the second. "Green means…go to sleep," he murmured, curling up and letting out a soft growl as he was softly and tenderly drawn away from the waking world and into a sea of beautiful, magical dreams. But Morro couldn't help but be a tad concerned. Something about Rocky's eyes just didn't sit right with him—not in the slightest.

Worried about the legend possibly being real, Morro cleared his throat and tried to reach out to the boy and the pup. "Ryder! Rocky! Can you hear me?" he called softly, waving his arms and hoping to get their attention.

When they didn't answer, Morro sucked in a sharp breath and stepped into the tent, standing directly in front of Ryder, hoping his risky move would draw the teen's attention and reveal his ghostly presence. He darted around the tent, waving his arms and crying out Ryder's name over and over again, fighting to break through the intangible mist that shrouded him from Ryder's perception of him.

But then, to his utter shock and dismay, Ryder phased right through him as he turned back to adjust Rocky's blanket and stepped right through Morro's frame.

As Ryder passed through his incorporeal form, Morro felt a sudden, overwhelming shock ripple mercilessly through his veins as his whole body seized up and stiffened—before going completely limp and numb. His legs buckled involuntarily, and he crumpled to the ground with a sickeningly ragged wheeze. His stomach balled into tight, tumultuous knots—his eyes watered—his forehead pounded lightly in his ears as his hearing grew foggy and misty and bleak. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and his vision swam murkily before he finally managed to suck in a shaky breath, struggling to calm his frazzled nerves and soothe his pounding heart. The tormented sensation slowly began to clear from his mind, but the nerve-wracking shock to his incorporeal body left him feeling more vulnerable than ever.

"He didn't see me…" the wind-child panted as he struggled to his feet, leaning against a nearby tent pole for support before letting go and murmuring, "He didn't…see me. Why couldn't he see me? Why?"

Frustration and a sense of helplessness washed over Morro as he realized the challenge he now faced in this unfamiliar realm. How could he protect and assist the pups and Ryder if they couldn't even perceive his presence? The experience of having a mortal phase right through his ethereal apparition-form left him feeling both disoriented and more determined to find a way to make himself known.

Taking one last glimpse at the peaceful scene inside the tent, Morro finally sucked in a shaky breath and screwed up the courage to leave, half-trotting and half-floating away from the tent, knowing deep within his core that he simply had to find a way to bridge the gap between his world and theirs.

Little did he realize that his journey in this strange, new realm was only just beginning.

---

Later that night

Morro couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. The events of the day had left him deeply unsettled, and his ghostly nature seemed to amplify his restlessness. Normally, ghosts didn't need to sleep unless they wanted to or were too battered and injured not to, but tonight, Morro felt an overwhelming exhaustion that refused to grant him peace.

He floated near the camp, watching the gentle rise and fall of his friends' breaths as they slept peacefully. The tranquility of the night was in stark contrast to the turmoil swirling within him. He could feel a persistent, gnawing ache growing in his chest—a reminder of the guilt and fear that plagued him mercilessly. Even though he'd been given a second chance, he still couldn't seem to shake the burdens of his checkered past—and all the damage his persistent wrongdoing had caused, both to him and to those around him.

Morro shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that might help him relax. Crumpling to his knees, he settled on the ground, his form flickering slightly as he lay there, curled into a tiny ball, hunkered into a fetal position that normally helped him clear his mind and open himself up to being beckoned away to the world of wondrous dreams. But tonight the cool, hard earth provided no comfort or serenity of healing slumber. He closed his eyes, willing himself to drift off, but his thoughts continued to race, each one more troubling than the last.

Groggy and desperate, he tried various techniques to calm his mind. First, he focused on his breathing, attempting to take slow, deep breaths. In, hold…out, hold…in, hold…out, hold. But even this rhythmic exercise couldn't quiet or soothe the storm swirling deep within his core. Each breath seemed to catch in his throat, the weight of his emotions making it hard to think or even breathe.

Next, he opened his eyes again, rolled onto his back, and attempted to count the stars in the night sky, hoping the monotonous task would lull him into a sense of calm. He began counting, "One... two... three..." but each star seemed to mock him with its distant brilliance, reminding him of the gap between his current state and the redemption he desperately sought.

Growing increasingly frustrated, Morro finally scrabbled to his feet and decided to float above the camp, hoping the gentle movement might soothe his restless spirit. Using his Wind Powers to levitate above the ground, he glided silently through the air, his form casting faint, ghostly shadows on the earth below him. The cool night breeze passed through him, ruffling his wispy, raven-black locks a little bit, but while it provided a temporary distraction, even it wasn't enough to settle his mind or calm his shaky spirits.

Desperate for relief, Morro tried to recall happy memories from his past, moments when he felt at peace. He thought of times spent with friends, of laughter and camaraderie, but each memory was tinged with regret. The mistakes he had made loomed large, overshadowing the fleeting moments of joy in a shroud of thick darkness he was sure that he could never dispel.

With a heavy sigh, Morro returned to the ground, creeping into the tent and curling up near Rocky and Skye. For a few minutes, he just lay there, watching them sleep, their peaceful faces a stark contrast to his inner turmoil. He envied their ability to rest so easily, to find comfort even in the darkness of the midnight sky.

---

As the hours passed, unnoticed and immeasurable, Morro continued to struggle, his mind unable to find the quiet it so desperately needed. He felt a deep weariness settle into his bones, a fatigue that went beyond the physical. It was the exhaustion of a soul burdened by guilt and self-doubt, a spirit searching for redemption in a world that offered little solace.

Just as he was going to give up on ever finding rest, a strange sound caught his attention. At first he wasn't sure what it was, but then as the sound grew steadily louder, his body snapped into full high-alert. His shoulders hunched stiffly. His hackles raised. His ears perked up, and every hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, readying him to fight—or to flee. And that's when he felt a shudder ripple uncontrollably through his veins as he realized exactly what that bizarre yet haunting noise was.

Slowly but surely, Rocky's soft snores were turning into low, rumbling growls.

Morro scooted closer, his curiosity piqued even more. With every nerve tingling with anticipation and dread, he watched trepidatiously as Rocky's body began to change, morphing into something different, something primal and wild and savage. The mixed-breed's collar strained and snapped clean away as his tail grew bushier—his fur scragglier—his ears longer and pointier. Two fangs suddenly emerged from Rocky's upper jaw, and as he stirred and growled even louder than ever, Morro scrambled backwards, both surprised and frightened by what he was seeing. The now-werepuppy let out a loud howl as his eyes snapped wide open and he growled once more before crying out, "Is someone there?"

Morro gulped, scooting farther away from Rocky and letting out a wolfish whimper of fright. The other pups continued to snore peacefully, unaware of the transformation that had just happened. Yikes! the wind-child mused fearfully, talk about a cute little normal puppy turning into a ferocious werepuppy! Even now, Rocky looks terrifying!

Oblivious to Morro's presence, Rocky just shook his head vigorously, trying to clear the fog of sleep from his groggy mind. "Ah, it must have been a raccoon," he muttered to himself, turning around and gazing out towards the pond. "Hmm, I'm kind of thirsty from eating all those marshmallows." he added before rushing out of the tent, bowling Morro over in the process. To Morro's shock, Rocky didn't phase through him!

What? Morro wondered, peering at his hands in confusion, as if they would provide the answer. What in the—did I miss something? Why didn't that pup go right through my—

But his thoughts were interrupted when Rocky made his way to the edge of the water, completely ignorant of the fact that his legs were longer and his paws much bigger than they used to be. As Rocky skidded to a stop and leaned over to take a drink, Morro followed silently, watching with bated breath as Rocky suddenly gasped in shock at his own reflection. The pup's snout quivered, as if he was struggling to process what he was seeing—unable to believe his own eyes. And then his composure broke entirely as he shrieked, his voice tinged with horror and disbelief intertwining, "I'm a... werepuppy!" Heartbroken and frightened beyond belief, he threw his head back and howled, the mournful sound echoing incessantly through the still night.

Hearing this, Morro's eyes went wide as grapefruits. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he'd fallen asleep after all and this was just a crazy dream. He even pinched himself to be sure—and though the pain was muted, he still couldn't help but let out a muffled "ow" at the sting of it.

There was no mistaking it. The legend Uncle Otis had shared around the campfire was coming true. Rocky really had transformed into a werepuppy!

But what could Morro do about it? He knew he had to do something, but how could he intervene in a world where he couldn't be seen or heard?

And then he wondered to himself—what if there was a way to make himself seen?

And what if Rocky's transformation was the key to it?

But before he could figure out the ins and outs of how to reveal his presence, Rocky, in a state of panic and confusion, scrambled away from the water and bolted away from the camp, his heart pounding in his chest faster than a stampede of skittish colts as he ran blindly through the night. In his bewilderment and fright, the scared, lost werepuppy wasn't paying attention to where he was heading, and he didn't see that Morro, frightened that Rocky was inadvertently going to get himself hurt, was chasing after him as fast as his ghostly legs could carry him.

Morro's legs soon began to ache—his ears to burn—his own heart to pound like a gong, the shattering reverberation echoing over and over again in his mind. Never had he run so fast or so long, not even when he was mortal, and he was already pushing his endurance as it was. But he kept plowing forward, driven onward by the knowledge that Rocky needed his help—and needed it fast! He stumbled multiple times but always kept moving forward, determined to reach the werepup before it was too late.

As he followed closely, he saw that Rocky was unknowingly heading straight for a cliff. His ghostly form allowed him to move swiftly, but the fear that he might not reach Rocky in time gnawed at him.

"Hey, Rocky! Stop!" Morro cried out, his voice filled with urgency and desperation.

To Morro's shock, Rocky heard him—actually heard him. The werepuppy skidded to a halt, whirling around just in time to avoid the edge of the cliff. His eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment, he stood frozen in place, his whole body stiff as a statue and his paws rooted to the ground.

Had Rocky's jaw not been attached, it would have fallen off his face and into the gorge.

Morro, equally stunned, skidded to a stop beside him, his ghostly form shimmering in the moonlight. He brushed himself off out of habit, feeling an odd mix of relief and surprise.

"Can you... can you see me?" Morro asked hesitantly, his voice trembling slightly.

Rocky nodded, too stunned to speak at first. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, his mind racing to make sense of what was happening. Finally, he found his voice and asked, "Are you a... ghost?"

Morro's legs began to tremble, and he felt his strength waning. He had pushed himself far beyond his limits, and now his ghostly form was starting to falter. He crumpled to the ground, exhausted, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Rocky, seeing Morro's distress, wanted to help but was a little frightened about what he was seeing and what he had been through. The sight of Morro, a ghostly figure who had saved him, was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. His heart pounded as he wrestled with his fear and concern. This was all beginning to be too much for him, and he slowly began to back away, not realizing that he was edging dangerously close to the cliff's edge again. Morro gasped in horror as he saw that Rocky was slowly but surely backing his way to his sure demise at the rocks of the cliff. Down there in the ravine was nothing but nothingness and instant doom, and despite his growing fatigue, Morro grunted, scrambled to his knees, and staggered to his feet with a grimace, whispering wheezily, "No…Rocky…wait…"

As Rocky continued to back up, Morro staggered forward, his body protesting with every step, the aches and pains intensifying within him faster and faster by the moment. His ears throbbed agonizingly, and his ghostly limbs felt like they were made of lead as his vision began to blur and his breaths came in labored, shallow gasps. Each movement felt like wading through thick, suffocating fog, and he knew he couldn't keep up this pace much longer.

Just as Rocky was about to step out into nothing but air, Morro clenched his teeth, summoning the last reserves of his strength and rushing forward in a frantic charge. As he ran, he could feel the familiar tug of his Wind Powers, a gift from his past life. Desperate to save Rocky, he focused his remaining energy, calling on a swirling gust of wind that wrapped around the werepuppy and yanked him far away from the cliff's edge.

The wind whipped fiercely through Rocky's fur, and he yelped in surprise as he was lifted off his paws and safely deposited (aka unceremoniously dumped) a few feet away from the dangerous drop. Rocky stumbled but quickly regained his footing, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief and his mouth wide open yet again as Morro staggered to a halt, his legs finally giving out on him.

With his knees buckling out from underneath him, Morro collapsed to the ground, his ghostly form flickering as he gasped frantically for breath, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and focusing all his remaining might on sucking in one shaky breath after another. The strain of using his Wind Powers had drained him almost completely, and he felt as though he might fade away at any moment.

Finally, summoning all his courage, Rocky stepped forward, tears welling in his eyes as he struggled to process all that had happened to him. "Wind-child…are you okay?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly as he shook his head in disbelief, confusion, and lingering fear.

Morro looked blearily up at Rocky, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and relief as he let out a soft yawn. "I'm... I'm okay, Rocky. Just... tired," he admitted, his voice weak but sincere as he curled into a ball and let out a long, wistful sigh.

Rocky knelt down beside Morro, his fear slowly giving way to determination as he snuggled against the wind-child's ghostly side. "You saved me," he murmured softly, his voice filled with gratitude as he added, "Thank you."

Morro managed a small smile, still feeling dizzy and drained but recovering swiftly from his desperate flight. "I couldn't let anything happen to you," he replied drowsily. "We're in this together, no matter what."

---

Morro, utterly exhausted, finally succumbed to his overwhelming lethargy and fatigue. His entire body felt like it was made of Vengestone and Deepstone combined, his ghostly form flickering faintly as he fought desperately to keep his eyes open. The exertion from using his Wind Powers and the relentless chase had drained every ounce of energy he had left. His limbs ached, his head pounded lightly in his ears, and his breathing was shallow and strangled, his chest heaving erratically and arrhythmically.

Sleepiness shrouded him in a soothing slumber, and he decided to take a small catnap, his form flickering faintly as he rested. The brief moments of sleep were filled with restless dreams, a testament to his lingering worry and exhaustion.

Rocky, however, found it hard to find peace. He stared nervously up at the stars, tears welling up in his eyes as he struggled to come to terms with his transformation and Morro's sudden appearance. The weight of the night's events pressed heavily on him, and he felt an overwhelming sense of confusion and fear.

Finally, Rocky's despair overwhelmed him, and he softly began to cry. With a desperate need for comfort, he threw himself at Morro's form, snuggling deeply into the ghost's chest as he sniffled and sneezed and sobbed sorrowfully. Morro began to wince and wheeze painfully as Rocky's tears burned his wraith-like form, but he held the pup close anyway, whispering softly under his breath, "My... my name is Morro... and I... I want to help you."

As he continued to gasp and pant in anguish and aching misery, Rocky suddenly noticed the pained expression on Morro's face and the way his ghostly form seemed to waver. "Are you okay?" Rocky asked, his voice trembling.

Morro, unable to say much, vigorously shook his head no, the pain slowly beginning to overwhelm him. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked softly, his voice wispy and faint, distant and bleak, as if he were in another world entirely.

Intrigued, Rocky backed away and sat down beside him, his eyes wide with curiosity. Morro haltingly sat up, took a deep breath, and began to explain in a quivering yet patient voice, "Water is a ghost's only bane. You see, we ghosts... we can phase through solid objects, but we can never phase through what never stands still. What's fluid to you is solid to us."

The thought of it made Rocky's ears perk up with interest. "So, if I were a ghost like you, I'd never have to worry about taking a bath again!" he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as if his birthday had come early.

Morro couldn't help but be intrigued himself by the pup's innocent perspective. "Do you dislike water?" he asked, a faint smile forming on his lips as he pictured Rocky being drenched, sopping-wet, and not liking it for a second.

Rocky nodded vigorously, his tail wagging as he answered, "You better believe it! I hate water! It's just so icky and disgusting and gross! If I never had to take a bath again, it would be too soon!"

Morro let out a hearty rollicking laugh at that, despite the lingering pain. "You still wouldn't want to be a ghost, though—trust me." he replied, a cheeky grin quirking on his lips as he let out a slight giggle. Rocky chuckled back, and the two then sighed blissfully. The fact that they both didn't think water was so hot seemed to bring them closer together than ever before.

---

As Rocky's tears dried and Morro's pain subsided, they both realized that they had found an unexpected ally in each other—and the realization that they were not alone quickly became a balm to both of their hearts. And yet, it was clear that the storm inside Rocky was not fully abated yet, as his face fell and he began to sniffle and sob quietly to himself.

Morro blinked and asked softly and tenderly, "You okay, Rock?"

The mixed-breed pup flashed a small smile at the nickname, but his voice was trembling as he leaned back against Morro's side and murmured in a trembling voice, "Oh, Morro…I'm scared. I'm scared of being a werepuppy, and I don't know what to do."

Morro blinked again, following up with, "What do you mean?"

At Morro's questions, Rocky's eyes watered with even more tears, but he managed to hold them back and not let them spill on Morro as he stammered, his voice growing smaller and smaller by the second, "I'm just so afraid that if—when—my friends find out, they'll be scared of me—or worse, they'll hate me! They'll hate me because of what I've become! I mean, I didn't know that standing in water reflecting the full moon would actually change me into a werepuppy! I thought it was just a spooky story! But it's all too real, and I don't know if I can stand it anymore!"

Finding that he simply could not go on, he threw himself back into Morro's arms, sobbing his little puppy heart out as Morro shifted slightly (just so Rocky's tears wouldn't melt him into a little screaming puddle of agony) and began gently stroking the pup's soft, fluffy fur. Slowly, ever so slowly, the wind-child sensed Rocky's bunched-up muscles loosening, his bundled nerves unwinding within him, his racing heartbeat steadying, his rapid breathing gradually growing slower and slower until it was gentle and natural again, his frantic sobs and sniffles slowly dissolving into small hiccupping coughs as he let out a wolfish whimpering sigh and snuggled deeper into Morro's chest.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay." Morro comforted the melancholy, heart-shattered werepup. "That's it—breathe. Just breathe. Relax and breathe. Breathe, Rocky. Just breathe. Relax and breathe."

Gradually, Rocky screwed up the courage to look deeply into Morro's soulful emerald-green eyes, his gaze flitting up momentarily to Morro's raven-black locks and silky emerald-green hair streak as Morro smiled at him, his gaze softened with understanding. "It's all right, Rocky. I may not fully understand what you're going through, but you don't have to be afraid of your new form. I mean, look at me. I'm little more than a shadeling, but being a ghost doesn't have to define me—because that's not all of who I am. It's like a book on a bookcase. It's just one book among many. And the same goes for everyone—even you."

Rocky sniffled and wiped his eyes with one paw as he slowly backed away from Morro again, his cheeks growing hot with mortified embarrassment and lingering fear. But Morro wasn't finished. As Rocky sat down again, his ears drooping mournfully as a final tear silently trickled down his face, Morro reached out, gently took Rocky's paws in his hands, and looked him in the eye as he continued, "You see, the real me, the core of my being, is not what is seen, but what cannot be seen." He punctuated his statement by softly placing a hand on his heart, and Rocky's eyes widened in wonder and sudden understanding of what Morro meant. His true self was not his external appearance, but his inner character—his true inner self, his heart, his core.

Rocky blinked, realizing that he had never truly thought of that before. And yet the simple idea both intrigued and comforted him. "You really believe that?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder as he stared back at Morro.

The wind-child nodded firmly, affirming, "I don't just believe it—I know it. And you're the same way. You may look like a werepuppy on the outside, but on the inside, you're just... Rocky. And that's what counts. It doesn't matter what you look like—it's what's inside that matters."

Hearing those heartfelt words, Rocky suddenly felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he realized the truth in Morro's statement. His tail wagged furiously as his fear began to melt completely away, replaced by a newfound determination and ecstasy. "You're right! You're really right! Oh, I'd better get to Sunflower Valley! Thanks again, Morro!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement and relief as he turned and ran off in the direction of the field of flowers he was searching for.

Scrabbling to his feet, Morro silently watched him go, a small smile playing on his lips as Rocky darted over a hill and disappeared from sight. "Anytime, Rocky. Anytime," the wind-child whispered softly, knowing that he had made a valuable difference tonight, before he too took off in the direction of Sunflower Valley.

---

Several moments later

Morro trailed behind Rocky, keeping a watchful eye on the pup as he discovered his newfound werepuppy abilities. Rocky seemed more and more amazed with every new ability that manifested itself. His leaps were higher, his speed faster, and his senses sharper than ever before. Feeling a surge of determination driving his adrenaline to great heights, Rocky zoomed towards Sunflower Valley, his heart set on finding the sunflowers that would help him return to his normal self.

Just as Rocky reached the edge of Sunflower Valley, the sight of the tall, golden sunflowers filling him with hope, his ears pricked up as he heard familiar voices calling his name. Recognizing who the cries belonged to, he turned to see the pup team, Uncle Otis, and Ryder running towards him, their faces filled with relief and worry as they skidded to a stop in front of him and took in the full sight of his new form. Rocky flinched, certain that they would be afraid of him. But to his shock, not one friend reacted in fear or disgust at his new appearance. In fact, if the looks on their faces were evidence enough, they were actually enthralled over his new look. But there wasn't time to dwell on that for long—the worry written all over their faces quickly quenched any fascination over Rocky's supernatural transformation.

"Rocky! Oh, Rocky!" Ryder called out, his voice tinged with concern as he embraced Rocky in a tight yet tender hug and exclaimed tearfully, "We've been looking for you everywhere!"

"We were so worried about you," Skye added, her eyes wide with mixed fear and relief that her best friend had been found.

Rocky wagged his tail vigorously, feeling a surge of gratitude for his friends coming to his aid as he reassured them, "I'm okay, everyone. I found the sunflowers!"

Uncle Otis nodded approvingly, exclaiming proudly, "Good job, Rocky. You're a brave pup."

Ryder let go of Rocky as the werepup smiled, then glanced behind him, expecting to see his ghostly companion. When he didn't, he turned back to his friends and explained further, "And I have to thank Morro for helping me. He helped me get over my fear and guided me here."

But his heart sank when he saw the other pups and Ryder exchanging confused looks, all thinking the same thing—Who's Morro?

"Morro?" Chase asked, cocking his head to one side in curiosity. "Who's that?"

Rocky tried to explain, but the words seemed inadequate to describe the ghostly figure who had come to his aid. "He's... well, he's a ghost. And he can control the wind. He helped me when I was scared and lost."

Rocky's voice was sincere, but the others weren't so convinced. Struggling to understand Rocky's thoughts, they exchanged skeptical glances, and one by one, they began to voice their doubts, causing Rocky's heart to sink with every word.

"A ghost? Are you sure, Rocky?" Marshall asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I mean, ghosts aren't real... are they?"

"A ghostly guardian? Doesn't that seem a little far-fetched, Rocko-dude?" Zuma added in his typical lilting, lisping tones as he tilted his head quizzically.

"If there were even a ghost around, I can't see him—or smell him, for that matter," Chase stated firmly, his nose twitching as if to prove a point.

Skye then chimed in, her voice laced with doubt as she gently shook her head and murmured, "Rocky, maybe you were just imagining things. It was a scary situation, after all."

With each statement of disbelief, Rocky's frustration only grew worse. Why didn't they believe him? He was telling them the truth—why couldn't they see it? "No! I saw him! Morro is real! Really real!" he insisted, his strangled voice rising in desperation. "He saved me when I was running towards the cliff. He used his Wind Powers to pull me back!"

The pups exchanged more uncertain glances, and Rocky could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His desperation was growing worse by the minute as it sunk in that no one really believed him. "I'm not making this up!" he cried, his eyes filling with tears. "You have to believe me!"

But the more he tried to convince them, the more their doubts seemed to grow—and unknown to anyone else, Morro, watching from a distance, was already beginning to feel the weight of their disbelief. With every statement of skepticism, he grew sleepier and weaker, his ghostly form flickering faintly as he struggled to keep his drooping eyelids open. He swayed blearily, feeling a strange grey mist seeping into his mind, ebbing into his veins, soaking into his bones, making every joint and every nerve feel sleepy and numb as his balance faltered and he crumpled drowsily to the ground…

"Rocky, we believe you think you saw something," Rubble said gently, trying to comfort his friend even as he voiced his own doubts. "But maybe it was just your imagination."

Rocky shook his head fiercely, tears streaming down his face. "No! Morro is real, I know it!" he shouted, his voice breaking as his composure cracked yet again. At long last, the distress and frustration overwhelmed the werepup, and he finally couldn't take it anymore. With a pained, sobbing cry, he turned and rushed away from Sunflower Valley, not even bothering to sniff a sunflower to change back to normal. His heart ached with the feeling of being doubted by his closest friends, and a fear of forgetting Morro entirely began to worm and wiggle his way into his splintered, broken core like a dagger of corrupted ice penetrating deep into his very soul and twisting taut.

As Rocky disappeared into the distance, Morro's strength gave out entirely. With a shuddery sigh, his eyes silently closed, and he fell headlong into a deep, dreamless slumber, his form fading away into the shadows, leaving behind nothing but a lingering sense of sorrow and loss and hollow emptiness, like a void of shadows and nothingness and instant doom.

The pups and Ryder watched in stunned silence, the weight of Rocky's words and actions sinking in as they realized too late the depth of his belief and the pain their doubts had caused him.

"Rocky…" Skye murmured softly, her heart breaking at the sight of her friend fleeing the very thing that could allow him to go back to normal.

"What have we done?" Zuma voiced, and his cry of guilt was quickly echoed by the remaining pups.

"We have to find him." Ryder declared, his face set with determination as he rallied his team and cried out, "Come on, pups! Let's roll!"

A few hours later, the pups and Ryder found Rocky back at the Lookout—lost in slumberland in his puphouse. He'd apparently cried himself to sleep, and they decided that it was best to let him slumber undisturbed. Yet Skye, passing him by, couldn't help but breathe to herself, "What have we done, Rocky? What have we done?"

---

Morro felt a deep-seated, bone-weary exhaustion when he finally stirred and forced his stubborn eyelids to open. His form flickered in and out erratically, the edges of his ghostly body shimmering and fading as if on the brink of vanishing entirely. Fear gripped him, a cold, desperate panic that made his breath come in short, shallow pants as he sat up so abruptly his neck cricked. "Oh, no…no…" he breathed, shivering and shuddering with intertwining cold and fear. "Not now…not now.." He knew that he just couldn't let himself fade—not now, not when Rocky needed him so badly.

Frantic desperation fueled his every stride as he half-ran, half-flew towards the Lookout, his limbs feeling like they were made of Deepstone. The journey felt endless, each step a struggle against the encroaching darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. His vision blurred, and he stumbled more than once, but the thought of finding Rocky again kept him going even amidst his growing weakness and tiredness.

When he finally reached the Lookout, he paused momentarily to catch his breath, his form flickering wildly. The sight of the tall, distinctive structure brought a small measure of comfort, but he knew he wasn't safe yet. He floated swiftly towards the puphouses, his movements unsteady and erratic.

As he approached Rocky's puphouse, he noticed that all the pups were sound asleep, their soft snores filling the air with a peaceful rhythm. Morro's heart softly ached with a mixture of relief and longing. He knew that, despite the circumstances, he needed to be near Rocky, to draw strength from the presence of the one pup whose belief was keeping him alive and tethered to this strange, new world.

Tiptoeing as quietly as a mouse into Rocky's puphouse, Morro carefully curled up beside the sleeping pup. His ghostly arm wrapped around Rocky, the cool, ethereal touch sending a shiver through the slumbering canine, but as Morro lay there, feeling the steady rise and fall of Rocky's breathing, he felt a sense of warmth and reassurance welling up within his fragile, splintering core and unstable spirits.

Rocky stirred slightly, his body sensing Morro's presence even in sleep. He didn't wake, but his breathing grew a little deeper, a sign of the comfort he found in Morro's nearness. Morro smiled weakly, his own form beginning to stabilize. He felt stronger already, the flickering of his ghostly body growing less unpredictable and erratic.

"Sweet dreams..." Morro whispered softly, his airy voice barely more than a wispy breath of breezy air. The words hung in the air like a gentle lullaby, wrapping both of them in a warm, tingling cocoon of welcome peace and tranquil serenity.

With Rocky's warmth beside him and the reassurance that he wasn't alone, Morro finally allowed himself to drift into a deep, restful sleep. The darkness that had threatened to consume him slowly receded, replaced by the soothing presence of his new best friend.

---

Over the next several days, Morro remained a constant, watchful presence around the Lookout. He continued to protect and soothe Rocky during their free time and even on missions. His ghostly form would drift alongside the pup, a silent guardian ensuring Rocky's safety and well-being. Rocky found comfort in Morro's presence, his anxieties eased by the knowledge that his spectral friend was always near.

In the quiet moments, Morro would curl up beside Rocky, whispering words of encouragement and reassurance. He would use his Wind Powers to create gentle breezes that cooled Rocky on hot days or rustled the leaves in a calming rhythm. The ghostly guardian's protective, brotherly influence was subtle but constant, a soothing balm for the pup's troubled heart.

But despite Morro's best efforts, Rocky struggled to convince the other pups that his friend was real. No matter how many times he told them about Morro or described the ways the ghost had helped him, his friends remained skeptical.

"Rocky, we haven't seen anything," Marshall said one afternoon, his tone gentle but firm. "Are you sure you're not just imagining things?"

Rocky shook his head vehemently. "I'm not! Morro's real! He's right here with us!" He gestured to the space beside him where Morro half-stood, half-hovered, his form shimmering faintly in the sunlight.

"Rocky, dude, a ghostly guardian still seems kinda far-fetched," Zuma said with a shrug. "Maybe you just dreamed it."

Chase sniffed the air, his nose twitching. "If there were a ghost around, I'd be able to see him—or smell him, at least. But there's nothing."

Rocky clenched his paws in frustration. Why couldn't he seem to get through to them?! He tried again in a pleading voice, "But he saved me! I told you, he used his Wind Powers to pull me back from the cliff!"

Sensing the situation escalating, Skye stepped forward, her expression filled with empathy as she exclaimed, "Rocky, we care about you. Maybe you're just stressed from everything that's happened."

The cockapoo's words, though kind and well-meaning, felt like a slap to the face for poor Rocky. In that moment, the final thread of self-control snapped, and the werepup felt his frustration swiftly boil over into brimming anger. "No, you're not listening! Morro is real! I know he is! I can see him! He's right next to me!" he insisted, his voice desperate as he once again gestured wildly to the space beside him. But it was all too clear from the bewildered glances on the others' faces that Morro's form was hidden from their sight and their senses entirely.

Seeing Rocky's distress, Skye tried to place a comforting paw on his shoulder, but the mixed-breed abruptly jerked away, his soulful, melancholy coal-black eyes blazing with frustration and hurt interfusing. "Just leave me alone!" he cried, pushing Skye away roughly. "None of you believe me! You never have, and you never will!"

As Rocky turned and raced away sobbing from his friends, heartsick and forlorn from being misunderstood by his closest companions, Skye felt a sudden, clarion chill trickle frigidly down her spine. She hesitated a moment, cocking her ears up and listening intently as a faint, distressed cry began to ebb and flow on the tides of the wind. The sound was almost imperceptible, but it sent shivers rippling through her veins, nonetheless.

"Did you hear that?" Skye asked, her voice trembling slightly.

The other pups looked around frantically, but none of them seemed to have heard anything. Chase shook his head decisively, asking in confusion, "Hear what, Skye?"

"That sound. It sounded like... a cry for help," Skye murmured, straining her ears to catch the sound again. But the wind had fallen silent, leaving her to wonder if her mind was simply playing tricks on her.

Morro, hovering just out of sight, watched wearily yet worriedly as Rocky disappeared into the distance. He felt a pang of sorrow, knowing that his presence had only caused more distress for Rocky. But he couldn't give up. Rocky needed him, and he would find a way to help his friend, no matter what.

---

Later that day, Ryder was working on a new gadget for Marshall's Pup-Pack when he heard a soft cough from behind him. Turning around in his chair, he realized it was Skye—and if the distress mirrored all over her face was a clue, something was terribly wrong. Concerned and worried, Ryder set his screwdriver down and scrambled off of his chair, standing in front of Skye and looking her in the eye as he gave her a look that said, Everything okay? What's the problem, Skye?

Skye wasted no time in spilling the beans, asking shyly, "Ryder, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Ryder blinked and then replied gently, "Of course, Skye. What's on your mind?"

"It's about Rocky." the cockapoo began, shifting her paws nervously. "He's been insisting that this... ghost named Morro is real and has been helping him. I want to believe him, but it just sounds so unbelievable."

Ryder blinked, remembering the turmoil that had taken place just weeks ago—when Rocky had been turned into a werepuppy but never changed back. Could it be that he'd never truly gotten over his supposed encounter with Morro—the one he had insisted was real, though no one else could "see" the ghostly shade?

Skye didn't miss a beat, continuing without a shred of hesitation, "I'm worried about him, Ryder. He's so upset that none of us can see Morro—and it's changing him, and not in a good way either. He's not the same pup he used to be, and…oh, Ryder…I'm just so scared—not just for the rest of us, but for him too."

By now, Skye was already on the verge of tears, her little magenta-pink eyes swimming with crystalline dewdrops of sadness and grief. Ryder could feel tears welling up in his own eyes, seeing Skye's worry and sorrow firsthand. It was never easy accepting that even the pups weren't immune to trials, and now was the worst one yet. But he managed to maintain his composure—for Skye's sake if not for his own—and bent down to Skye's level as he softly answered, "I understand, Skye. Rocky's been through a lot lately, and sometimes stressful situations can make our minds play tricks on us. But that doesn't mean we should dismiss what he's saying outright. I don't believe that he'd trick us or lie to us intentionally, but if he really does think that Morro exists, then maybe there's a way we can support him without dismissing his experiences."

He opened up his arms for a hug, and Skye gratefully accepted, throwing herself at Ryder's chest and sobbing her little heart out as she snuggled her head against Ryder's collarbone. Ryder, though he was growing uncomfortable from the feeling of the cockapoo's tears soaking into his suit, didn't try to flinch back or push Skye away. Instead, he just held the cockapoo close, stroking her soft, fluffy fur and whispering gentle, soothing words of encouragement and comfort in her ears. Finally, Skye's sobs began to dissipate, and she pulled her head out of Ryder's chest, looking up into his big brown eyes and murmuring, "I know, Ryder, but it's just hard seeing him like this. He keeps trying to convince us, and it's tearing him apart when we don't believe him. And on top of that, I…I can't explain how, but I just heard a strange cry on the wind after he ran off. What if there's something more to this? What if…what if he's right, but we can't see what he's seeing because…"

Her voice trailed off as she struggled to fish for the right words to express her thoughts, but Ryder was already putting two and two together to make four. Stroking his chin thoughtfully for a few moments, he finally mused aloud, "It's possible that Rocky's experiencing something very real to him. Whether or not Morro is a ghost, Rocky believes in him, and that belief is important. What we need to find a way to help Rocky feel understood and supported, so he understands that we're here to help him get through…whatever is going on with him right now."

"But…" Skye hesitantly ventured, "how do we do that without encouraging something that might not be real? I don't want to make things worse for him than they are already."

Ryder was quick to answer Skye's questions. "I think we should start by acknowledging Rocky's feelings and experiences. Let him know that we care about him and that we're here to support him, even if we don't fully understand. Maybe we can look for more clues or try to understand what Rocky's experiencing from his perspective."

"You're right." the cockapoo pup agreed, nodding to emphasize her point as she wiped her eyes with one paw and added, "I just want Rocky to feel safe and supported. It's so hard seeing him so distressed like this."

"We'll get through this together, Skye." the ten-year-old leader reassured his flight rescue pup. "Let's gather the team and see if we can find a way to help Rocky without dismissing his feelings. We need to show him that we believe in him, even if we can't see what he sees.

But before Ryder or Skye could make a move, there was a sharp noise of paws clanging against the hallway floor as the rest of the pups, including Everest (who'd come for a visit after hearing about Rocky's predicament), zoomed into the workspace, skidding to a stop in front of Ryder and all talking at the same time. Ryder shoved his stuff to the back of his workbench and cried out, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down! One at a time!"

Marshall's eyes were filled with confusion and dismay as he explained grimly, "Ryder, Skye, we have a problem. Rocky's shut himself in his puphouse, and he won't talk to any of us."

"We've tried everything." Chase confirmed, "but he won't come out, and he won't say a word to us. He even yelled at Everest to go away, and then he locked his puphouse door on us!"

"He's never done this before." Zuma murmured, his snout quivering with fear and sadness intertwining as his soulful blue eyes welled up with warm, stinging tears. "Rocko-dude's always been the chill one on the team. What are we gonna do?"

Everest put in her own two cents as she exclaimed, "I'm really worried about him. From what the others told me, he seemed so upset earlier. And he's never raised his voice at any of us like that. It's like he's a completely different pup now!"

Rubble had remained quiet for most of the conversation, but now he too murmured, "Maybe we pushed him too hard back there, but how can we make this right?"

The other pups voiced their own questions as the air filled with exclamations of "Yeah, how?" and "We've gotta help him." and "Poor Rocky…" After a few minutes, Ryder gestured for the pups to settle down and sighed deeply, saying half to himself, "This isn't just a minor problem anymore-this is getting serious all too quickly. We need to show Rocky that we're here for him, no matter what. Let's give him some space for now, but we need to find a way to reach out to him and let him know he's not alone."

Skye's face lit up at that, and she answered softly, "I agree with Ryder. I'll try talking to him again later, maybe when he's had some time to calm down and cool off a bit."

"If you need any help, Skye," Chase replied, stepping forward a bit, "we're all here for you. Just let us know if you're in a jam, and we'll come running."

"Let's all be patient and supportive." Ryder added, nodding his agreement, "Rocky needs us right now, even if he doesn't want to talk. We'll find a way to help him through this—somehow. After all, no job is too big, and…"

"No pup is too small!" the others cheered out. But deep down, they all knew that they were all thinking the same thing—What if it's already too late?

---

Later that night

Sitting in his puphouse alone with the door locked, Rocky couldn't help but feel a heavy weight on his heart, the disbelief of his friends dragging his spirits down. He'd tried everything to convince them Morro was real, and yet, it was all to no avail. Never in all of his puppy years had he felt so forlorn and alone in his sorrows and troubled grief.

He'd always known that he was different from the others—that he sometimes could detect things that no one else could. Yet he was sure that some of the other pups should at least be able to see what he could see. And now, he was quickly learning that they actually could not. Out of all the pups, he alone seemed to be the only one who believed in Morro—who saw him—who heard him—who felt his presence and responded to his voice.

But what if it was all in vain? What if, one day, he woke up to find that he couldn't see Morro anymore? Worse yet…what if he stopped believing in Morro's existence entirely…and poor Morro was left alone, friendless and abandoned and forgotten?

Around midnight, when he was sure the others were asleep, Rocky sucked in a shaky breath, unlocked his puphouse door, slipped away from the Lookout grounds, and began a long, solitary run through the quiet streets of the town. The moon cast a gentle glow, and the stars seemed to watch over him from above, their distant light a small comfort. The wind brushed against his fur, cool and refreshing, while the darkness clung to him like a chilly mist, wrapping around his frame with an eerie embrace.

Closing his eyes, he felt hot, stinging tears begin to pour mercilessly down his cheeks in twin waterfalls of sorrow and grief. He didn't understand why all this was happening, and without realizing it, he opened his mouth and softly began to sing to himself, his voice quivering with aching distress and melancholy hopelessness,

I am just a pup, but

I can take care of myself.

I mustn't let them down now,

Mustn't let them see me cry.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Despite his brave front, Rocky couldn't shake the feeling of isolation draping around his core like a shroud of blackest darkness and melancholy despair. His friends, seemingly too tired of his fantasies and too set in their realistic ways, still refused to believe the magic he had witnessed—and it shook him to the furthest depths of his very soul.

They're too tired to listen.

They're too old to believe.

All these childish stories—

To them, there's no such thing

As hope

And trust

In phantom gusts….

As he continued to run, he lifted his teary gaze to the sparkling, twinkling stars and the silvery full moon, their light gentle yet unyielding. He could sense Morro's presence, a whisper on the wind, but the ghostly figure remained unseen, little more than a mere memory etched into his mind.

I see,

But it's so hard to convince.

I see,

But they can't see what I see!

I know

I see

What can't be seen.

The world around him felt like it was shifting, morphing into something both familiar and foreign. Every step he took, every paw-pad he felt hitting rhythmically against the hard concrete, seemed to lead him deeper into the unknown.

My whole world is changing;

I don't know where to turn!

I can't leave you waiting,

But I can't stay and watch

The night unfold—

Watch it unfold.

As a chilly white mist filled the air, Rocky tried to cling to his belief in Morro, but the shadows of doubt were already beginning to creep in, gnawing maliciously at his resolve and vigilant resilience. His friends' skepticism cast a long shadow over his heart, and his tears flowed even more freely as he half-sang, half-sobbed,

'Cause I try!

Yes, it's so hard to believe…

I know

That you can't see what I see.

You try,

You try…

As he struggled to bridge the gap between what he knew to be true and what his friends refused to accept, the distance between belief and reality seemed insurmountable. How could he show them something that they themselves couldn't see? How could he show them what could not be seen and yet was just so real?!

And try and try

To understand the distance in-between,

The friend I know, the doubts I fear,

And every single dream.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of running, running, running, Rocky's legs slowed, and he roughly skidded to a stop, breathing heavily. Amidst the storminess of his broken spirits, the wind swirled all around him, carrying whispers of reassurance, and despite the cataclysmic whirlwind of confusion and distress, he still felt a flickering spark of hope reignite within him, a determination to hold onto the magic he had experienced.

I can finally feel it.

Now I have to believe

All those precious stories—

All the world is made of

Hope

And trust

And phantom gusts.

Raising his head to the sky, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes, Rocky tilted his head back and wolfishly howled, feeling a renewed sense of purpose welling up within his splintered core and shattered heart. He just knew that somehow, someway, he would find a way to make his friends see the truth, to share the wonder he had felt.

So I'll try—

Hope you'll finally believe

In the end,

That you'll see what I can see!

I'll try,

I'll try,

I'll try,

I'll try...

To fly.

---

As Rocky's forlorn, sorrowful song ended, he flopped down heavily on the cool grass, his ears drooping with grief and his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The stars above twinkled indifferently, though the moon cast a gentle yet apathetic glow over the park grounds, turning every green blade of grass and every grain of playground sand a strange, haunting selkie-silver. The wind carried the sound of Rocky's tears throughout the still night, reaching the ears of Morro, who had been watching silently from a distance, worried over his friend's great distress and grief and the silent sorrow buried deep within his core.

Hearing Rocky's despairing sobs, Morro quietly emerged from his hiding spot and floated over to the pup. Rocky, sensing Morro's presence, tearfully looked up, and Morro reacted instinctively, reaching out and gently wrapping his arms around him, hoping to soothe his stormy heart and calm his shaking nerves. "Shh, it's okay," Morro whispered softly, holding Rocky close to his chest and kindly stroking his fur in tender, rhythmic motions. Rocky sniffled and turned his head away, trying to keep his tears from falling on Morro, but he couldn't help feeling comforted by the ghost's presence, tenuous and ethereal as it was.

"It's okay." Morro breathed softly in the mixed-breed's ear, murmuring once again, "That's it…breathe, Rocky. Just breathe. Relax…"

"And breathe." Rocky finished, knowing what Morro was about to say even as he struggled to suck in one shaky breath after another. Finally, after what seemed like hours of fighting to calm himself, the gray mixed-breed managed to steady his racing heart and soothe his frenzied core into gentle quietness and tentative peace. His chest continued to heave with sobs, but he smiled reassuringly at Morro, hoping to convey that he was going to be okay, even amidst his sorrow and grief.

"It's just so hard," Rocky confessed wryly between sobs. "It's so hard to hang onto belief when my friends can't see you and don't believe you exist."

Hearing this, Morro paused, sucked in a breath, and looked down at Rocky with clarion understanding and compassionate empathy in his eyes. He knew the struggle of believing in something unseen all too well, and he knew that the mixed-breed pup was going to need some help to get through this. As his mind raced with ways to comfort Rocky, he found himself falling back on something that Master Wu had taught him—back when he was just a kid trying to prove that he belonged, before the prophecy of the Green Ninja had caused everything to go downhill.

"Rocky," he began gently yet thought-provokingly, "can you see the air?"

Rocky let out a loud sniffle and shook his head vigorously, murmuring in confusion, "No, I can't."

"Can you see gravity?" Morro continued.

Again, Rocky shook his head and answered, "No, I can't."

"And what about magnetism? Can you see that?" Morro asked, his voice calm and reassuring as he warmed up to his theme.

"No," Rocky replied, his voice barely a whisper, but his ears cocking upward in gradual understanding of where Morro was going.

Morro smiled softly, recognizing that Rocky was slowly starting to comprehend his direction. "And can you see love?"

Rocky paused, thinking about the question before admitting, "No, I can't see love."

Sensing that Rocky finally comprehended the point, Morro nodded his agreement and went on to explain, "You can't see those things, but that doesn't make them any less real than what you can see. Sometimes, seeing is believing, but other times, the most real things in the world are what can't be seen." Then Morro paused and cocked his head to one side, murmuring softly, "Remember how I told you that your true self—the core of your being—isn't what is seen, but what can't be seen?"

"Yes…" Rocky hesitantly answered, trying to figure out where Morro was taking this. The wind-child sensed the pup's lingering bewilderment and elaborated, "Well, belief—faith—works the same way. You see…" He paused when Rocky let out a wry chuckle at his dry humor before he continued, "True faith says, 'I can't see this, but I know it's there.'"

As Rocky slowly began to put the pieces of Morro's cryptic puzzle together, he suddenly felt a warm sense of utter understanding and hope wash over him. Morro's words resonated deeply within his core, and he slowly began to see the world in a new light. "You're right," he said softly. "I guess... I guess I just need to remember that."

Seeing new joy radiating in Rocky's eyes, Morro hugged the pup a little tighter, his ghostly form providing a comforting presence and strength to the little gray mixed-breed. "You are a special pup, Rocky," he whispered gently, "and your belief in what cannot be seen is what makes you truly remarkable."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Rocky felt tears springing to his eyes again—but this time, these were tears of joy. But then something terrible happened.

Morro, without warning, suddenly noticed something that made his heart skip a beat—Rocky was still in his werepuppy form. Concerned, he gently asked, "Rocky, why didn't you change back?"

Realizing what Morro was thinking about, Rocky looked up at the wind-child and admitted softly, "I'm afraid."

Morro frowned, his confusion and worry evident as he softly prodded, "Afraid of what?"

Sucking in a shaky breath, Rocky timidly confessed, "I'm afraid that if I change back, I'll forget about you." His voice began to quiver as he continued, "I'm scared that if I go back to normal, I'll stop believing in you, and eventually, I won't be able to see you at all."

Morro's stomach lurched at Rocky's words, and he couldn't help but feel a deep sadness washed over him. Tears began to form in his eyes, though Rocky couldn't feel them. But even through his own sorrow, Morro knew that this could not go on any longer. With a heavy heart, Morro breathed shakily and tearfully whispered, "Rocky, please... find a sunflower and change back. You don't deserve to spend the rest of your life as a werepuppy."

But to his dismay, Rocky just shook his head, his resolve unwavering as he pleaded, "No, Morro. I can't. I just can't."

Desperation and anguish filled Morro's heart as he realized that the pup was not going to budge, and without thinking, he screamed right in the pup's ear, "Then go, Rocky! Just go! You have to go! I never want to see you again! Now GO!"

A beat of stillness—a spell of silence—and then, the full weight of Morro's words hit Rocky like a brick to the head. His snout quivered, his eyes welled with tears, and within moments, he felt his heart shattering into a thousand crystalline shards that could never be put back together the way they should go. His ears were playing tricks on them—they had to be! But they weren't. He really had just heard Morro betray his trust.

Morro's frantic, desperate plea of anguish and anger intertwining seemed to echo relentlessly in Rocky's mind, over and over and over again—"I never want to see you again! Now GO!"As the echoes seemed to pound louder and louder in the poor werepup's mental hearing, his face steeled with rage, and without warning, his crushed spirits lashed out, and he snapped—completely, utterly snapped.

"FINE!" Rocky shrieked, his banshee-shrill voice cracking with emotion and aggression. "If you want to be left alone, then BE alone! I thought you were my friend, but I guess I was wrong! I should NEVER have believed in you! Maybe you should just slink back to whatever dark hole you came from!"

Hearing Rocky's bitter, angry words, Morro's face scrunched up with sorrow. His cheeks flushed sapphire-blue. His lip quivered, and his emerald-green eyes began to well with dry, unshed tears. Unable to take the sting of rejection anymore, Rocky sharply turned on his heel and ran away, sobbing uncontrollably and seeking to flee this nightmare as fast as his legs could carry him.

Morro numbly watched him go, the weight of his words settling heavily on his chest. His heart began to pound incessantly as he crumpled to his knees, tears streaming down his ghostly face, and cried out in regret, "No... Rocky…no…what have I done?! What have I done?!"

All of a sudden, the midnight seemed to grow even colder and darker around him than before, the stars and moon offering no comfort and no solace. Morro was left alone with his sorrow, the depth of the mistake he had made pushing him down more and more with every sob and every tear and every stuttering breath of anguish. He had pushed away the one friend who truly believed in him, and now he had no idea how to make things right.

But that's when Morro heard the distant rumbling of a storm brewing above him. His heart began to race even more as he realized he needed to find shelter before the rain began. If he didn't get to safety before the storm hit, he'd be truly dead by morning. Scrambling to his feet, he scurried and scrambled to find cover, his ghostly form darting frantically and desperately through the forest as his gaze darted around wildly for any sort of hideaway from the rain and the lightning and the thunder's roar.

Just as the first raindrops began to fall steadily and agonizingly, Morro suddenly spotted a cave in the distance. With a great cry of joy and relief, he bounded towards it, hoping against hope that he'd be all right—that he'd make it in time. But in his haste, he completely forgot to watch where he was going. With a gasp of shock, he tripped headlong over a jagged rock, and his right foot met nothing but air. He screamed like a banshee-wraith as he—arms flailing and pinwheeling wildly—careened uncontrollably down a craggy, rocky, weather-beaten ridge, shot over a ramp-like boulder projection jutting out of the stone, flipped over once, twice, three times in midair, and crash-landed painfully at the bottom of a dark, dusky chamber, a little dust cloud rising up around him as he hit the ground with a sickening thud.

For several minutes, he just lay there, unmoving, groaning in agony from the not-quite-the-best landing. Then, with a small grunt of exertion, he pushed himself to his feet, standing on shaky legs as he struggled to get his bearings. As he stood there, trembling with fright, he quickly realized that there was no way he was going to make it back up to the top of the ridge on his own.

He was stuck.

Fighting back tears, he staggered forward—only to let out a yelp as a sharp pain shot through his right ankle. He must have sprained or twisted it in the fall. Or perhaps broken it.

He struggled to keep moving forward, but each attempt to move sent sharp, searing pain through his leg, making it impossible to stand without experiencing great, excruciating agony. To make matters worse, the rock he had tripped over was damp, and he could already feel the residual water seeping into his ghostly veins, sapping his strength away, draining his endurance and stamina even further as his legs buckled out from underneath him, and he sagged wearily to the ground, his breathing wheezy and wispy and faint as he slowly grew weaker and weaker.

He struggled to stay awake, his vision blurring as intertwining exhaustion and pain took their toll. The pull of drowsy unconsciousness was too strong to resist, and Morro could already feel himself slipping silently away. But before he succumbed to the shadows of unnatural slumber entirely, he lifted up his voice and croaked out a groggy, hazy whisper of, "Rocky...forgive me. I should never have pushed you away."

With those final words, Morro's eyes silently closed, and he fell into an indefinite slumber, too frail from the crash and the exposure to water—his only bane as a shadeling—to fight the long sleep any longer. The storm raged on above him, but Morro's thoughts were consumed with nothing but regret and a desperate hope for forgiveness.

---

Halloween—a time for candy, spooky stories, and a sense of the unseen permeating the very air—arrived with a burst of excitement, and the pups were all raring to go trick-or-treating. Everyone, that is, except Rocky. Despite the festive atmosphere, his heart remained heavy with the agony of Morro's rejection. The other pups still didn't believe that Morro existed, making it even harder for Rocky to shake off his sadness and despair.

Skye, ever observant and caring, noticed Rocky's sorrow. She saw him standing all by himself by his puphouse and approached him gently, her eyes filled with compassion and concern. "Rocky, why are you so sad? It's Halloween! You should be excited!" she said softly—though she couldn't help doing a little flip out of enthusiasm.

Rocky looked down, his ears drooping as he let out a melancholy, wistful sigh. "It's just... it's Morro. I can't get over how he shut me out. And no one believes he's real. I was the only one who could see him, but then…he turned me away." he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "I know I turned back to a normal puppy a while ago, but I'm not even sure I should try and find him again. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms, and, well…"

As his voice trailed off into nothingness, Skye couldn't help but feel her heart aching for her friend. She might not believe in Morro, but seeing Rocky so upset was something she knew she couldn't ignore. "Rocky," she softly yet warmly ventured, "I may not believe that Morro's real, but I can't stand by and watch you mope and fuss on a night like this. Halloween is meant to be fun, and I want you to enjoy it wholeheartedly!"

Even in the midst of his anguish, Rocky felt a flicker of comfort and hope from Skye's words. Despite everything that had happened, she was still here for him—even though he had once pushed her away and tried to shut her out of his life. "Can... can you go trick-or-treating with me?" he asked shyly, looking up at her with longing eyes.

Skye's expression softened, and she nodded in understanding. Rocky wanted to give her a second chance just as she had done for him. "Of course, Rocky. I'd love to go trick-or-treating with you," she agreed, offering him a reassuring smile.

With Skye by his side, Rocky felt a bit of his sadness lift. He knew he still had a lot to work through, but having a friend who cared enough to be there with him made all the difference. Together, they set off to join the other pups, ready to embrace the Halloween festivities and find a little bit of joy in the night's adventures.

Little did they know…they were in for an adventure they wouldn't soon forget.

---

During the trick-or-treating festivities, a sudden blackout plunged the town into darkness. Ryder and the other pups sprang into action, trying to calm the townspeople—especially Katie and Mayor Goodway.

"Everyone, please stay calm!" Ryder called out, his voice steady even as he tried to conduct a head count and ensure everyone was safe. "We'll get the power back on as soon as possible."

Mayor Goodway clutched her purse chicken, Chickaletta, tightly to her chest, her eyes wide with worry (as usual). "Oh dear, this is just dreadful!" she moaned in undue fear, shuddering a little as the moon's light was slowly shrouded by dark, ominous-looking clouds. "What if we can't find our way back? My poor Chickaletta is so afraid of the dark…"

Katie, trying to soothe her nervous clients even amidst her own panic, added, "Don't worry, everyone. Ryder and the pups have this under control. Just stay together and we'll be fine."

---

Amidst the chaos, Rocky and Skye got separated from the team, their surroundings quickly becoming unfamiliar as they wandered far away from the group, eventually winding up lost in the middle of the woods.

"Rocky, where are we?" Skye asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity. She'd never been this far from the Lookout before, and it made her both adventurous and nervous.

"I'm not sure, Skye," Rocky replied, his ears twitching nervously. "But we need to find our way back to the team."

Just as a sense of frightful panic started to set in, the moon was covered in thick, midnight-black clouds, and a brilliant flash of lightning seemed to split the stormy sky in two. A roll of thunder heard the lightning's cry and answered with its own earthshattering roar just as the air got heavy and moist—a sure sign of a severe thunderstorm.

"Uh-oh, looks like a big storm is moving in." Rocky exclaimed nervously. "And that can only mean one thing—soaking-wet RAIN!"

"We need to find shelter, fast!" Skye exclaimed, her gaze darting around frantically before she pointed one paw wildly towards a nearby cave and shouted, "There!"

Without thinking, they rushed headlong towards the cave. The first raindrops began to fall as they dashed inside, but no sooner had they entered than they heard a strange sound. It sounded like hundreds of piping banshee-high squeaks and chirps slowly growing louder by the moment. All too soon, a bizarre rustling of wings joined the high-pitched frenzy, and Rocky began to whimper, "Um, Skye…what is that?"

The air began to ripple fiercely and ferociously, and the two were just about to take cover and hide when it happened. Before the two could even blink, hundreds of bats rushed towards them, their wings creating a chaotic flurry in the confined space.

"Ahhh! Bats!" Skye screamed, ducking and dodging and bobbing and weaving and zigzagging back and forth as the creatures swooped and whirled all around her.

"Run!" Rocky shouted, trying to evade the bats and lead Skye deeper into the cave. The sound of fluttering wings and squeaks filled the air with a great, ear-piercing cacophony as they sprinted and scampered further into the cave, not thinking to pay attention to where they were going. Only one thing was on their minds now—RUN!

In the dim light, Skye didn't see a sharp hairpin turn and suddenly tripped over a rock, losing her balance as her paws flew in front of her, hitting nothing but air below her. With a yelping shriek, she tumbled somersaulting down a rocky ridge, her body bouncing painfully against the rough, craggy surface of the weathered rocks, the whole cave nothing but a whirlwind of stalactites and stalagmites above and around her as she just fell and fell and fell. "Skye!" Rocky screamed, his voice echoing through the cave as he dove after her, desperate to save his friend before she was dashed against or skewered by any jagged boulders or loose stalagmites.

With a great crash, Skye was finally dumped unceremoniously in a dark, damp, drafty cave chamber at the bottom, groaning and wincing in agony and pain. As she tried to regain her bearings, she tripped over her own paws and dizzily somersaulted further into the cave, unknowingly phasing right through Morro, who lay completely unconscious and growing more pale and sickly by the minute. The ephemeral contact sent a strange, ghostly chill coursing through her veins, causing her to shiver despite the exertion of her flight.

"R-Rocky, there's something really, really weird about this place..." Skye stammered, her voice shaking from the eerie sensation.

Rocky scrambled down to join her, his eyes widening as he saw the state of the chamber. "Are you okay, Skye?" he asked, helping her up.

Skye nodded and shook her head vigorously to clear the dizziness from her mind, still feeling the lingering chill draping around her like a cloak of blackest darkness and despair. "Yeah, but... I felt something, like a cold breeze or... I don't know. It felt strange."

Confused, Rocky glanced frantically around the chamber—only to stumble backwards with a horrified gasp at what he could see, but what Skye could not. It was Morro!

"Morro," he whispered, rushing hurriedly to the ghost's side. The wind-child was so weak that every breath seemed a battle and every movement a wrestling match. He coughed hoarsely yet bleakly, his hacking coughs sounding wet and shallow as they echoed freakishly throughout the small space. With another terrified gasp, Rocky felt wetness on his own fur and on Morro's limp, lifeless legs—and realized exactly what was happening. The damp air drifting into the cave was condensing on the phantom-child's skin, causing his form to grow weaker and more ethereal by the moment! And if Rocky and Skye didn't do something soon, Morro could fade away entirely within mere moments!

"Morro, wake up!" Rocky begged his friend, shaking him furiously, pleading silently for him to respond. "Please..."

But Morro remained still, his form flickering weakly in and out of existence as his greenish skin grew even paler and his aura dimmed more and more by the second. Rocky knew they had to act fast to save him, but he wasn't sure how. The storm continued to rage outside, the cave offering only temporary refuge. And if they waited too long…

"We need to find a way to help him," Rocky said determinedly. "We can't just leave him like this."

"Why? What is it?" Skye replied frantically, not understanding what was happening.

"It's the air—the water in the air!" Rocky explained, tears welling up in his eyes as he continued, "Water is a ghost's only bane. Ghosts have the power to phase through anything unmoving, but they can never phase through anything that never stops moving! What's fluid to us is solid to them!"

Skye let out a horrified gasp of her own, the implications of such a cursed existence sinking in swiftly and chillingly. "Rocky, I know you're worried, but what can we do?" the cockapoo asked, her eyes filled with concern and worry for the state of Rocky's unseen friend.

Knowing that panicking would get him and Skye nowhere, Rocky took a deep breath, trying to think of a solution as he breathed in and out, in and out, just like Morro had taught him. "There has to be something..." he mused aloud, pacing the length of the chamber as he spoke. "Maybe if we can find something to dry him off and keep him warm, it might help."

"Okay, let's look around," Skye agreed, her determination matching Rocky's. Together, they began to search the cave for anything that could help Morro, hoping against hope that they weren't already too late.

---

Back in the town, Ryder and the pups were doing their best to reassure everyone. As Ryder and the other pups fervently continued their efforts, it dawned on Ryder that two of the team's own were missing.

"Wait a minute…" he paused, scanning the area frantically before gasping in fear. "Where are Rocky and Skye?"

Zuma's eyes widened in horrified realization. "Oh no! They must have gotten separated from us during the blackout!"

"We need to find them fast," Rubble said, his voice filled with urgency. "Our friends could be in big trouble."

"Chase, use your night vision goggles to scan the area," Ryder instructed, thinking quickly. "Marshall, check with the townspeople to see if anyone saw which direction they went."

"On it, Ryder!" Chase and Marshall responded in unison. Chase barked out his night-vision goggles and began scanning, while Marshall darted off in the direction of Mr. Porter's Market to see if he could find any clues.

As the search began, Ryder's thoughts were filled with worry and dread for his missing friends. "Hang in there, Rocky and Skye." he murmured half to himself. "We're coming for you."

"Don't worry, we'll get through this," Marshall said, his voice full of courage as Chase joined him, racing to catch up with his long, lean strides. "We're all in this together, and together we are strong."

Chase nodded his agreement, adding, "And we'll find Rocky and Skye. They won't be alone for long."

"Thank you, pups," Mayor Goodway said, her voice shaking with relief as some of Adventure Bay's lights started coming back on. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

"Hang in there, everyone," Ryder called out, his voice filled with more confidence than he was truly feeling. "We'll have everything back to normal soon. Let's just stay calm and stick together. No job is too big—no pup is too small!"

---

Meanwhile, Morro lay barely conscious on the cold, damp ground of the cave, his ghostly form still flickering weakly in and out of focus. Rocky and Skye worked tirelessly to keep him warm, their concern growing with each passing moment. Rocky had found an old, tattered blanket in the corner of the cave and gently draped it over Morro, trying to provide some semblance of warmth. But it didn't seem to be doing much, as the storm grew worse outside and the cold, damp air of the cave chamber grew ever stronger and thicker and wetter. Soon the dampness and draftiness of the air was akin to a strong, white mist that clung to the pups' fur and Morro's skin like a wet blanket.

Morro's eyes fluttered open briefly, but he was visibly struggling to stay alert. His breathing was strangled and shallow, and his form seemed to fade in and out, barely holding onto its substance. Each breath he took was faint and labored, as if the very effort itself was leeching away the last of his strength.

"Come on, Morro," Rocky whispered, his voice thick with worry. "You can't give up now. You have to stay with us."

Morro's head lolled limply to the side, his eyes blinking sluggishly open. He tried to speak, but his voice was barely a whisper, more a ghostly wisp of sound than actual words. His entire being trembled, as if thrashing and writhing frailly against the pull of perpetual unconsciousness that threatened to claim him forever.

Skye, still unable to see or feel Morro, watched closely with a mix of confusion and concern. "Rocky, are you sure he's real?" she asked, her quavering voice filled with lingering doubt.

Rocky looked at her, his eyes pleading in grief and fear. "I told you he was real..." he whispered, his voice barely audible over the howling wind outside as he nuzzled Morro's invisible, almost intangible form. "Please, Morro... don't leave us." he begged, the faint spark of hope he still held beginning to die within him.

Morro's form flickered again, his ghostly body becoming almost completely translucent. He winced in pain, a faint groan escaping his lips as he tried to lift his head. The effort seemed to be too much for his drenched consciousness to handle, and he sank back down, his remaining energy rapidly waning. For a second, his form flickered into full visibility, before slowly growing invisible to all save Rocky yet again.

It was only then that Skye noticed the full extent of Morro's injuries. Not only did he have a badly sprained ankle, but his arms and legs were also covered in ectoplasm from many scars and welts and cuts and bruises—myriads of wounds that hadn't fully healed. The sight was severe though not gruesome, yet it filled her with a deeper sense of urgency than ever.

"Rocky, look at his injuries. He's so weak…" Skye said, her voice trembling with concern. "He's in worse shape than we thought." As if Morro could understand her, he shifted his head again—though the mere effort to move seemed to cause him even more pain and tumultuous turmoil than before.

Rocky gently reached out a shaking paw and squeezed Morro's hand, though it felt more like grasping at mist than anything solid. "Morro, come on. You have to hang on," Rocky pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes. "We need you."

Morro's eyes fluttered shut again, his breathing becoming even more wispy and faint as the seconds trickled. He was losing the battle to stay awake, the dampness from the cave weakening him even further, his very life seeming to hang only by a rapidly fraying thread. The weight of the blanket seemed to provide little comfort, and his form continued to flicker and wane in and out of focus as his breathing grew more labored and his heartbeat began to accelerate dangerously, his ghostly, ghastly-wounded body fighting for survival—and already losing the battle.

Skye reached out a paw, trying to help in any way she could, but it phased right through his all-but-fully incorporeal form, causing him to wince and shudder with frigid, unnatural chills as he folded in on himself, curling into a miserable, huddling ball and letting out a wolfish whimper of cold, pain, and fear intertwining. He was getting worse—and there was nothing the two pups seemed to be able to do to change it.

"We'll find a way, Morro. Just hold on a little longer. Don't let go—whatever you do, please, don't let go." Rocky whispered, his voice filled with waning hope and frantic desperation and pleading fear.

---

After what seemed like an eternity, Morro stirred bleakly and finally found a little bit of strength to speak. His voice was raw and weak, and specter-tears glistened in his eyes as he began to confess, "Rocky... Skye...I have to tell you something. There's something you have to know…about me…there was once a time…that…what I'm trying to say…is that…I wasn't always on the right side."

Rocky and Skye listened intently, their concern deepening at this piece of worrying news. "What do you mean, Morro?" Rocky asked gently, his voice open yet strained with great distress over Morro's rapidly deteriorating condition.

Morro's voice trembled uncontrollably as he continued, "I once sought power above all else—driven by my own selfish ambition and desperation. I even mind-controlled the true Green Ninja, forcing him to do my bidding, bending his thoughts and actions to match my every desire and whim. I thought I could achieve greatness, but all I did was hurt myself and all those around me."

Specter-tears rolled freely and mercilessly down Morro's cheeks as he recounted his past mistakes. "Every day, I feel the regrets of the past weighing down on me, sapping away any shred of resilience and hope I have left. I wish I could go back and change everything. But now... now all I can do is try to make amends and help those I care about."

Rocky squeezed Morro's hand tighter, his heart aching for his once-wayward friend. "Morro, everyone makes mistakes. We all do things wrong. It's in our nature—it shouldn't be, but it is. What matters is that you're trying to make things right. We're here for you—always."

Skye, her skepticism fading more with every second, added, "We believe in you, Morro. We'll help you get through this, I promise. You just gotta hold on to the truth—what is real is not just what can be seen, but what cannot be seen."

Morro's eyes filled with gratitude as he looked up wearily at Rocky and Skye. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Thank you for believing in me."

---

As the thunderous storm reached its ultimatum, Rocky and Skye stayed by Morro's side, desperately trying to keep him warm and conscious, but they could see that he was already slipping away.

"Rocky... Skye..." Morro's voice was barely more than an airy breath now, and he shivered and quaked unconsciously as he struggled to speak. "Whatever you do, promise me... promise that no matter what... you won't... you won't... forget... me..."

Rocky gripped Morro's hand tightly, tears streaming down his face. "We promise, Morro. We won't forget you," he choked out, his heart breaking as he knew that Morro's life was finally ebbing away entirely. He was barely clinging to existence as it was, and the air was already filled with a sense of utter and complete finality.

Skye, her eyes filled with hot, stinging tears, nodded sorrowfully, knowing that Morro was on his last moments already. "We won't forget you, Morro. I promise," she said softly, her voice trembling and shaking with melancholy and pathos.

With those final words, Morro's eyes fluttered closed, and a shiver shuddered through his frame. He went deathly still, not moving, not breathing, completely limp and numb and lifeless. The cave seemed to grow colder and darker all around the threesome, the weight of the wind-child's absence pressing heavily on poor Rocky and Skye.

Rocky let out a heartbroken howl of despair, his sobs echoing relentlessly through the cavern. "No... Morro... please don't go," he cried, his voice filled with anguish. He felt as though a part of him had been torn away, leaving a gaping, hollow void in his heart. Morro had been his closest friend—and now he was gone—stolen away in the middle of what was supposed to be a joyous night of glad celebration.

Skye, equally crushed, reached out to comfort Rocky, placing a gentle, tender paw on the sobbing mixed-breed's shoulder. "Rocky... I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice barely able to be heard over the wailing breeze outside. She felt a deep sense of loss welling up within her heart and a feeling like a dagger of ice penetrating deep within her soul and twisting taut, balling her stomach into tight, tumultuous knots and shaking her to the very core. Even though she had never truly seen or felt Morro herself, she knew that he had been a precious friend to Rocky—and that Rocky had been a precious friend to him in return.

As Rocky nuzzled against Morro's lifeless body, his sobs becoming quieter and weaker by the moment, Skye felt a surge of determination welling up within her, and slowly yet surely, She began to sing, her soft, shy voice throbbing and thrumming with emotion and hope as she whisper-breathed,

---

I can see you're hurting,

But I can't change the past.

I can only stand here

And believe that love will last.

I'm here…

I'm here…

---

Though it's hard to believe it,

There's a light we can't see—

In the darkest moments,

We must hold on to our dreams;

With hope

And trust,

We'll finally see…

---

I'll try

To hold onto the light!

I'll try

To keep faith in our fight!

I'll try,

I'll try,

I'll try…

---

The world feels like it's changing,

But I'm right here with you.

Even in the shadows,

We'll find our way through—

Find our way through…

---

So I'll try,

Though it's so hard to see,

I'll try

To believe in the unseen.

I'll try,

I'll try,

---

And try and try

To bridge the gaps in-between,

The love we share, the fears we face,

And every hopeful dream.

---

I can feel it in my heart;

We must never lose sight

Of the bonds that tie us,

Even in the darkest night;

With hope

And trust,

We'll be alright.

---

So I'll try,

Though the path isn't clear,

I'll try

To keep faith, never fear!

I'll try,

I'll try,

I'll try,

I'll try...

To fly.

---

As Skye's song ended, her voice carrying all through the cave, Rocky felt a sense of comfort and determination rise within him. The bond between them, and the memory of Morro's words, gave him the strength to believe in what couldn't be seen and to hold onto the hope that they would find a way through the darkness.

---

Exhausted and drained, Rocky and Skye finally succumbed to sleep, their heads resting on the damp cave floor. The storm outside continued to rage, its howling winds and torrential rain creating a cacophony of sound that filled the darkened chamber with bleakness and despair. Misery did love company, after all, and tonight was no exception.

As the minutes passed, unnoticed and uncounted, the cave grew eerily quiet, save for the occasional rumble of thunder and the peace-breaking patter of raindrops. Then, something happened—a faint heartbeat, a spell of slight motion, a stir in the stillness of the midnight. Morro's ghostly form shuddered slightly, a soft, almost inaudible cough escaping his numb, cold, blue lips.

His eyelids fluttered as if he were struggling to wake from a deep, dreamless slumber. With great effort, Morro began to shudder and quake, his body trembling and shivering and shaking as he tried to lift his head. He let out another weak cough, his breath hitching as he fought to stay conscious.

The sound of Morro's movements roused Rocky from his sleep. His eyes snapped open, and he blinked groggily in the dim light. It took a moment for him to realize what was happening, but when he did, his heart leapt with long-awaited hope and dim yet slowly strengthening joy.

"Morro?" Rocky whispered, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and relief. He gently shook Skye awake, his excitement palpable. "Skye, wake up! It's Morro! He's waking up! He's alive, Skye! He's alive!"

Skye stirred, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she tried to shake off the grogginess of long, snoozy sleep. "What? Rocky, are you sure?" she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Rocky nodded vigorously, his eyes never leaving Morro as he gestured wildly at the ghost-child's stirring form. "Yes, look! He's moving! He's all right!"

After several painstaking seconds, Morro's eyes slowly, sleepily opened, their ghostly glow faint but present. He looked in confusion around the cave, his gaze finally settling on the two pups who had been there for him even in his darkest moments. "Rocky... Skye..." he managed to whisper, his voice weak but filled with emotion and stirring alertness.

Rocky reached out, gently touching Morro's hand with his paw and blurting out, "Morro! You're okay! You're awake! You're alive!" he said, tears of relief streaming incessantly down his face.

Skye, still unable to see Morro clearly, felt the chill in the air lessen slightly. She placed her paw on Rocky's shoulder, offering her support. "We were so worried about you. We thought you were gone forever. I know I can't see you, but I'm still so glad you're okay, Morro," she said softly, her voice swelling with the beginnings of true belief and growing faith.

Morro took a deep, shuddering breath, his form flickering but growing slightly more stable at Skye's sincere, believing words. "Thank you... for not giving up on me," he whispered, his voice trembling with gratitude.

As the storm outside began to subside, Skye suddenly blinked and did a double-take. Could it be? She blinked again, her eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of a raven-haired boy with a singular emerald-green hair streak slowly coming into full visibility before her very eyes. Was that... Morro she was seeing—for the first time?

"Rocky," Skye whispered, her voice filled with awe. "I think...I don't know how, but I think…I think I can see him—really, truly see him!"

Rocky turned to her, his heart swelling with hope. "Really? You can see Morro?" he gasped in wonder and excitement. Could it be?

Skye nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Morro's form. "Yes... I can see him. Morro, I can see you, and I believe in you. Rocky was right—you are real. I just wish I had believed him before—but now…I'm just so glad you're safe!" she finished, flinging herself into his arms wildly and snuggling deep into his chest, sighing happily and blissfully at the feel of his incorporeal arms shielding and protecting her from the cold. Morro flinched and let out a small oof at the sudden impact, but he couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible yet present and growing stronger all the time. "Thank you for believing."

Suddenly, a flurry of movement filled the cave as the bats returned, their wings fluttering and filling the air with a chaotic, ear-piercing noisy blur of sound. Skye and Rocky instinctively shrieked and cowered, trying to shield themselves from the creatures swarming savagely above them.

But Morro remained unfazed. Gathering his remaining strength, he sat up and called out to the bats, his voice calm and reassuring. "It's okay, little ones," he said softly. "You just want to be safe and warm, just like we do."

The bats seemed to respond to Morro's soothing presence, their frantic movements gradually slowing. With gentle motions, Morro reached out and took the bats into his arms. He began to hum softly, the hauntingly beautiful tune filling the cave with a sense of peace and tranquility. The bats, drawn to his calming melody, settled down and began to fall fast asleep, nuzzling deep into his arms, trusting him completely.

Rocky and Skye watched in awe, their hearts melting at the sight. Without even realizing it, they both whispered at the same time, "Aww..."

Unbothered by the whisper, Morro closed his eyes and continued to hum, his voice carrying a gentle, soothing power. The bats nestled closer, finding comfort in his embrace. It was a moment of pure serenity, a reminder of the magic that existed even in the most unexpected places.

Suddenly, Rocky noticed something miraculous happening. As Morro hummed his soothing lullaby to the tiny flittermice, his injured ankle began to heal rapidly. The ectoplasmic wounds and welts on his limbs seemed to fade completely away, replaced by a steady glow that radiated from within his core—the true self within him that normally could not be seen yet was just so poignantly real.

Rocky's eyes widened in disbelief, and then he did his own double take. "Skye, look! Morro's ankle—it's healing fast!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as he gestured to Morro's foot.

Skye's gaze followed Rocky's, and she gasped as she saw Morro's transformation. "Oh my word, you're right! Look, he's beginning to stand!"

Morro, feeling the newfound strength coursing through him, slowly stood up, his form more stable than it had been in a long time. The bats in his arms shifted slightly but remained asleep, comforted by his presence.

He looked gratefully at Rocky and Skye, a soft smile spreading across his face. "Thank you both," he said, his voice steady and filled with thankfulness. "Your belief in me... it's given me the strength to heal."

Rocky and Skye felt a surge of joy and relief at Morro's words. It was the best attempt at an apology that Rocky thought he'd ever heard. "We never doubted you, Morro," Rocky said, his voice choked with emotion. "We're just so glad you're okay."

Skye nodded, her eyes shining with happiness. "You mean a lot to us, Morro. We'll always be here for you—I promise."

---

As the storm finally began to calm, the sound of footsteps and familiar voices echoed through the cave. The bats woke with a sudden, collective squeal and flew out of Morro's arms, fluttering away, not looking back even once. But the nostalgia and serenity that had been shattered silently faded away as Skye's ears perked up, and she quickly realized who it was. "Ryder! Pups! DOWN HERE! WE'RE DOWN HERE!" she screamed, her voice filled with welcome relief and excitement.

Moments later, Ryder and the rest of the pups appeared at the entrance of the cave, their faces lighting up with joy and relief as they spotted Rocky, Skye, and Morro clambering their way back up to the main chamber. "Rocky! Skye! Are you okay?" Ryder called out, rushing to their side—still unable to see Morro's ghostly form hovering in the darkness.

Chase, Marshall, Rubble, Zuma, and Everest followed closely behind, their eyes wide with concern and curiosity. "What happened? Are you guys alright?" Chase asked, his voice filled with worry and fretful fear.

Rocky, Skye, and Morro exchanged knowing smiles, their bond stronger than ever. They looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them, and with a mischievous glint in their eyes, they replied in unison, "Like we'll ever tell!"

The other pups and Ryder couldn't help but chuckle at their response, relieved to see their friends safe and sound. "Well, whatever happened, we're just glad you're okay," Ryder said, his voice filled with tender, brotherly warmth. Marshall quickly snapped to attention, checking Rocky and Skye over for any injuries—and looking relieved to find nothing more than a few minor cuts and bruises.

As the other pups and Ryder gathered around, checking to make sure everyone was okay, Chase's face lit up with a mix of relief and irritation. He turned to Skye, his voice sharp with concern. "Don't you EVER scare me like that again, Skye!"

Skye smiled softly, her heart both warmed and amused by Chase's worry. Sometimes she wondered if Chase, perhaps, was a little too protective of her—but she admired his spirit and perseverance, even if it was a little overdone at times. "I'm sorry, Chase. We didn't mean to cause so much trouble," she replied softly, nuzzling against his side to reassure him.

Morro, still getting used to the dynamics of the group, leaned towards Rocky and asked in a whisper, "What does Chase mean by that?"

Rocky chuckled, glancing at Chase, who was clearly flustered and frenzied by Skye's near-scare. "Don't tell the others," Rocky whispered back, "but Chase has a bit of a...crush on Skye."

Morro's eyes widened in understanding, and he couldn't help but smile cheekily. If Chase could blush, he would have turned fifteen shades of crimson by now. The other pups, oblivious to the exchange, continued to express their relief and happiness at being reunited once again—back together at last.

---

As the group gathered their thoughts and began to make their way out of the cave, something amazingly magical happened. One by one, the pups' eyes widened in astonishment. Could it be…it was! At last, at long last, they could see Morro! The ghostly figure that had once been invisible to them now stood right before their eyes, shimmering with a gentle, sage-green glow and grinning like a cat in cream.

Rocky couldn't help but grin widely at the stunned looks on his friends' faces. "I TOLD you he was real!" he exclaimed, causing the others to laugh with mixed relief and joy.

Marshall, ever the clumsy pup, got too carried away with his giggles and managed to trip over his own paws, somersaulting wildly right into Morro. The collision sent them both tumbling, but instead of frustration, Morro laughed heartily. "Fire striking back... why am I not surprised?" he said, his laughter filling the air with rollicking, merry mirth and unbridled glee.

The others exchanged confused glances but chose not to press for answers, enjoying the fleeting moment instead.

Ryder stepped forward, his face filled with warmth and welcome as he offered, "Morro, we would be honored if you came back with us. You've shown great courage and kindness, and we'd love to have you as part of our team."

Morro blushed shyly at Ryder's kindness, his ghostly cheeks glowing faintly blue. After searching for decades for a home to call his own, he'd finally found it—in the most unlikely bunch of pups possible.

"Thank you, Ryder. I'd be delighted to join you all," he replied, his voice humble and sincere. He and Rocky shared a smile, knowing that their bond was growing stronger by the moment—seen or unseen.

As they walked back towards Adventure Bay, the storm fully subsided and the night sky cleared, revealing a mesmerizing blanket of stars above. The adventure had brought them all closer together, and they knew they could face anything as a united team.

Finally, as they reached the outskirts of the town, Ryder turned to Morro with a smile. "Whenever you are in ghostly trouble…" he began.

Not missing a beat, Rocky finished the sentence with a triumphant grin, "Just yelp for help!"

Morro chuckled, nodding with appreciation. "I'll keep that in mind next time," he said, feeling truly accepted and part of the team.

With newfound friends and a strong bond, the team shared one last laugh (for now) and headed back home, ready for whatever adventures awaited them next, knowing they had the strength of their friendship to carry them through.

Paw Patrol for the win!