Mudminnow River gotta stand tall and aim higher

x@Evien—Sorry this ended up ramble-y!

The majority of his life had been a part of a Caravan—that meant traveling to and fro places.  Grethe used to talk about how they were migrating like the herbies do, traveling after them in search of food and those to barter with.
The Empire was vast enough that it’s control was seen everywhere. The sentiment river reminded him of those within Rothskel’s grasp; unpleasant, yet a blessing to many. Without it, the famines would have been worse off. Numerous fell ill drinking the unclean waters, yet it was a gamble they often had to make. Drink or waste away.
Valdemar had been among the fortunate to survive the treks. In return, he got to see a plentiful of sights for himself. There were mountain peaks that reached so high up, they touched the clouds. Deserts barren save one plot of paradise; an oasis that thrived with various walks of life. He got to see them for himself, versus just imagining what they could be from word of mouth.
Now he was on his own, but still finding these sights everywhere he went. This one was just a familiar one, that brought upon a strong wave of nostalgia. He wandered the banks, allowing his large paws to spread and sink into the odd mixture of mud and clay.

This place was amazing. Sure, the water was basically undrinkable, but he could see fish in there, and not to mention the plants growing by the side of it! So far he'd seen burdock root, plum trees, and crab apple trees. There was no point in taking any of it with him, but just those three things had so many uses that he knew he'd be coming back around here to gather from them in the future. 

             Evien padded down the silty riverbanks, nose nearly touching the ground, and not at all looking where he was going. He didn't realize when he approached the wolfdog - only when he bumped his forehead against one of the bigger male's haunches. 

             Eyes flashed up immediately and widened. "Sorry, I, uh-" he began, then cut off, brows furrowing. Was... this a wolf? He'd never quite seen anything like him. The curled tail, the shorter muzzle. He almost looked bearlike. Evien didn't mean to be rude, but he was dumbfounded.

Lost in his own daydreams, he was blissfully unaware of another approaching so closely. A pause in step at the sight of raccoon tracks led to the awkward collision on Valdemar’s part. Blinking, the wolfdog barked a laugh at the fumbling of the other—likely embarrassed by the ordeal.
Not shy are you? He teased, taunting the smaller boy with a grin curving broad across his boxy muzzle. The burly man turned to face him with a wag of his tail.

No, Evien was not typically a shy wolf. A bit embarrassed about slamming into the rump of the man in front of him, but certainly not enough to be dumbstruck. Some part of Evie's mind had convinced himself he was looking at a bear-wolf hybrid, and he was immensely confused. 

          When he realized his maw was parted, he clicked it shut and shook his head to clear it. "Nuh-no," he began, clearing his throat. "I'm not. I just... have never seen a wolf like you before." Was that racist? He hoped not. He really was trying not to be rude, but the boxy muzzle and curled tail and short ears were so confusing.

He feels a touch guilty that he went about joking around when the boy answers so seriously. Granted Valdemar can’t blame him for his curiosity, much like he couldn’t blame the other hundred or more in the past.
Hm, well, that’s ‘cause I ain’t all wolf. Much as he loves the attention and basking in the spotlight, sometimes he did wish someone would see him and less a… unicorn to marvel over though. He’s gotten good at masking those feelings, however, and just grins and bears.