Swiftcurrent Creek tongue-tickling bubble juice

Dune's ears picked up on the sound, then his nose on her scent, and at last he turned his head to see the wolf who had approached, waiting patiently behind him. Assuming she was being smart and keeping a good distance away in order not to instigate a fight, he backed away from the creek and allowed her room to drink. He did not speak, not finding it necessary to engage in small talk or exchange pleasantries. Not that Dune had ever exchanged pleasantries with anybody at all. That was not the way of the north, and he was most certainly a wolf of the north.

He was still sore from his scrap with the dark, yellow-eyed wolf, and he hoped that this encounter would prove to be less... violent. Then again, he was prepared to do whatever he needed to in order to survive.