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

The length of his ears was stretched high as the young female called out to him, imploring that he cease his play in the water. Truthfully, the river was cold enough to cause him to feel numb to the lapping at his legs. It was not a healthy decision, but Amoxtli had wanted her to know that he was safe and he would do her no harm. Standing elbow-deep in the river, he turned his skull and peered at her with a pair of curious orange eyes before he pulled himself from the waters and shook his pelt free of droplets. The breeze that was carried across the land was enough to cause the wolfdog to shiver violently, so he wiggled forward and lowered his skull to the young girl – appearing as though he was submitting to the youth.

Softly, his tail wagged from behind him. The Tervuren drew his tongue across his muzzle and tilted his head to the side, wondering to himself if that young girl should have been so far from her home. He felt a chill and shook his pelt once more, shuddering beneath the frigid grip of the breeze. As if to agree with her sentiment about getting sick, Amoxtli released a strangled sort of sneeze and blinked his eyes rapidly. A small smile curled his lips upward as he looked back to the girl and nodded his head. You were right, he thought. What a sweet young thing.