Totoka River 그 안에 숨겨진 비밀을 알게된 것 같아

The littlest Corten lost herself wholly in the joy of greeting the sunrise, amused by the surreal way her legs cast impossibly long, spindly reflections across the glassy delta — like a doggish silhouette painted in the style of Salvador Dalí’s elephants, her indelible mirror image bore a spiderlike quality. Engrossed in her play, she turned to regard Marbas with bright eyes, pleased to see that the expression on his striking visage was benign and tolerant, if somewhat touched with a glaze of quizzicality. That he did not immediately join in with a playful overture of his own did not trouble her, so long as he was content and allowed the imposition of her presence; she dipped her streamlined muzzle, flicking a tiny wave of water into the air, and snapped the droplets between her teeth.

The inky sheepdog cross danced toward her charcoal-patterned companion, her catlike paws kicking up puddles, but when she drew nearer she slipped into a demure sphinx-like position in the middle of the mirror-like delta, perfectly content to be half-submerged. She turned the tip of her muzzle to the rising sun — but her eyes slid sidelong as she dabbled her forepaws in the cool liquid, glancing up at the mahogany-eyed wolf with a vestige of her previous trepidation shadowing her seablue gaze. She was not nearly as close to him as she had trespassed before, but she couldn’t help the subtle shimmy of her hips that brought her just an inch or two closer — keeping a respectful distance while casting clandestine — or so she thought, though the atramentous ingénue was quite obvious in her affection — glances at Marbas to gauge his mood.