At least it's Summer. Kipling reassured herself, the she-wolf halting mid-stride to enjoy the slight breeze that rocked the meadow. But just as quickly as it had blown through the humidity settled back into the space it had cut, smothering the air with a warm uncomfortable blanket. Seeing as it didn't have the sting of sunlight, it made for suitable traveling conditions, encouraging her to continue a slow trek through a crowd of wild flowers.

While the weather was in her favor, her thoughts were not and served to weigh her down. A mountain of doubts seemed persistent in the horizon. It had only been a few days, and surely life wasn't so hard by herself. The way it had seemed before, when she'd known only pack life, she thought the land itself would tear her apart in only a few hours. But the world hadn't changed quite so drastically as she expected when she became a loner, in fact she'd been set loose from the chain of responsibilities and was free to do as she pleased.

As long as I can keep it up. There was hope, it rang in the unseen life thriving around her with the tune of the night. A rustle of grass proved her point when the flowers parted and a small frog hopped through the gap the greet her. You're a little far from water aren't you? ...or are you?

She'd been so focused on the tiny little croaker, the sudden greeting nearly made her leap into the air. Instead with fur bristling in surprise and suspicion Kipling gazed wide-eyed at the stranger, running her eyes over the dark form of her pelt and briefly pausing to catch the dark blue of her eyes before sliding her own eyes elsewhere. No need to heat things up. A second later she realized this was all pretty innocent and her instincts where being too dramatic.

Hey. She replied casually, fixing her posture to address the other she-wolf. Containing herself enough to stand still instead of twiddling in place, she paused unsure what more to say. She assumed if there was more to it then the wolf would come right out with a question or something?

She was really curious to know what exactly was so amusing that was worthy of that smug smirk she received. Being caught off guard was embarrassing enough, not to mention she'd been chatting up a frog, but she refused to be some sort of sideshow. Not entirely impressed by the female, Kipling lifted a single brow critically in her direction. What? So you don't know? She actually didn't know herself, not that she'd be willing to admit as much after all that.

It was then that the frog moved, between them her gaze flew down to catch the movement as it disappeared into the the surrounding grass. Kipling took a single step in the pointed direction, I guess you can follow me and Mr. Toad here.

Kipling was doing no better than her acquaintance, she too was quite new to the area and panted as she stepped beside the she-wolf. While she should have admitted that she had no idea where the water went, she figured the frog would lead them in the right direction. Maybe not, and then what would she say? She figured she'd cross that bridge when she got there, not all that worried her confidence would backfire on her. Tomato tomahto. She replied with a roll of her shoulders, What's the difference? It's just a name.

She then paused, an ear pricking forward as she caught the sound of running water. Perfect. Leaving "Mr. Toad" behind, her pace quickened as she near the creek, tail waving behind her in triumph.

She'd pretty much left any thoughts of the toad/frog behind as soon as she touched water. Kipling had other methods of cooling down. As she neared the stream she tumbled swiftly off her paws rolling into the creek, the bend here through the meadow was shallow enough that she had no worries of being carried away by the current. Shaking her fur out in a drenched wild mess of fur, she neglected to roll to her feet again. She'd been needing a bath anyway. Panting on her side, she was as chill as a dog cooling off by the poolside, too bad she was missing the shades.

She adjusted her head just enough so that she could lap up a nice gulp of water without having to stand, relishing the feel of water down her throat. A moment after Kipling's gaze returned back to her companion, having almost forgotten about the strange woman in her own fuss to enjoy their discovery.

Wooow. Kipling cooed at the other she-wolf, watching as her swarthy figure effortlessly slipped into the creek. Much more elegant than her erupt entry. You're so majestic. Despite the teasing tone that accompanied the compliment it was still somewhat genuine. Her eyes briefly wandered upward pausing at the sky, to consider if she should be jealous; she'd always been reckless on her paws, and Kipling swallowed the thought with a small chuckle not sure if she could change certain things about herself.

Before you happen to slither way, do you have a name? Perhaps it would serve her no purpose, or perhaps someday she'd be able to tell tales about the enigmatic dark figure who insisted toads were frogs and crept around creek beds in an orderly fashion. She certainly sounded like a great start to a rather odd antagonist.

Before she could come up with any good stories though, the two wolves parted ways, and somehow Kipling hadn't managed to get her name after all.