Arrow Lake the beast of beauclair

over the strange aquatic noises bubbling up here and there across the lake, stigmata became aware that he was no longer alone on the lakeshore - assuming he had come to the area first. the would-be angler turned his head slowly, making a valiant effort to remain unmoved from the shoulders down, lest he disturb the unwary fish.

he stiffened when he saw her - the ridge of his back rippling in alarm as he mistook her, on sight, for a certain russet-furred redleaf. but the searing gold shine of this stranger's eyes saved her from a potentially grave mistake, and for a fiercely negative moment, stigmata paused to resent the way in which he had been stricken reactive towards fire-hued coats.

more or less ignoring the barbwire glare he could feel like acupuncture needles along his spine, the warhound gave one heavy snort of dismissive acknowledgement, and then turned his muzzle straight once more to resume his own activity. if all she had were proverbial daggers to throw, then he need not be concerned.

same! don't pay much mind to krampus over here - he's going thru some things lmao