Whitefish River the inner claims i hadn't breadth to shake

A voice sounded over the winding of the river and the wolfdog turned his head sharply to catch sight of a striking little girl, colored in dappling browns and cinnamon against striking white. Instantly, his tail began to flag and he lowered his torso to the ground playfully. A whispered yip escaped from his mouth, barely sounding over the noise of the water. She had remained solidly rooted to her place, and he was certain it would be because he was an unfamiliar figure. The Tervuren did not want her to feel as though she would be harmed; Amoxtli was as gentle as the drifting breeze. Holding his position, rear in the air, and his tail wagging wildly. He looked like a playful puppy, eager to encounter a new friend on a cold day.

Realizing suddenly that she had asked him a question, the dark-faced boy canted his head to the left only slightly before turning his gaze back to the water. It was often difficult to communicate without words, but he had managed for a vast majority of his life and knew that at a young age, she would be likely to understand if he should react to the inquiry with action. Many others had enjoyed his quiet companionship. Oxtli did not want the young girl to disappear, so he lifted himself upward abruptly and spun around in an excited circle.

Without warning, the Tervuren darted toward the water and sprung upward, arcing himself like a fox before plummeting into the frigid waters and feeling his feet strike the bottom. The river water splashed upward and speckled the shores in tiny droplets. Amoxtli's face was now soaked and his thick coat clung to his body drably. With a wide-mouthed grin – tongue lolling from the side – the hybrid turned to face his company and threw back his head in nothing more than a strangled whisper of joy.