Whitefish River A rake of claws against a mirror

For @Iseldur and Cathal!

Water cold from winter's touch was nothing if not pleasant. Quail was glad to lean her head down, to lap it and feel the sense of rejuvenation fill her.

Eyes flicked upwards, her long ears lifting slightly at the sound of paws approaching. Ten metres or so from her position, but certainly not more.

A strange sight; A large canine, a wolf certainly, and a bouncing ball of fur next to him. Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as she attempted to confirm just what his companion was.

She stood nearly completely still, nose twitching. It was no pup, for it did not smell of milk nor a stuffy den. It was no wolf, but certainly a canine.

Her mind raced back; a hall filled with dogs, each present to fill a separate purpose. Yes, it was a dog that this wolf had. One of those.. small, yappy one's.

What the hell did he have a dog with him for?

small, yippy pup beside him ; a contrast of old and young, and though iseldur was not all that weathered, he found himself lumbering like a man of many days, of moons and seasons that had passed long ago. but the way in which he moved was different from how he held himself ; a pride ran through his bones, his veins, a cord taut though his neck, holding his head high, almost proud. a strength that ran deep within him.

though they had parted for a day, perhaps two, his son was never too far, and now as the trekked side by side, the sunman looked forwards. a woman, by scent, though certainly no wolf. a tail flick ordered the squires silence, a whisper to be on alert, for it was a canine that stood up ahead, unlike either of them, though perhaps closer to cathal than to iseldur. it is a dog, came gaelic tongue. like you, cathal. should we say hello?

he did not hide his sons heritage from him, rather, embraced it.

it was the boys call, now.

The boy had been happy to bounce along, recounting days events to Iseldur with the energy of a bullet; however he was quick to quiet down at the sight of his father's signal.

He looks ahead. A canine, far from a wolf but larger than Cathal. His head tilts. Dog? Really? He is not so sure. They look nothing like him! But yes, we will say hi! He would never turn down the opportunity for something new.

He hops ahead through the heavy snow, barking a greeting to the stranger who watches them so steadily from across the river. It is mostly frozen now, so Cathal knows that his light body will have no issue crossing - though poor Iseldur may break the ice.

The little dog runs. Fear fills Damsel's eyes. Come! Beast! Her broken common words urge him forwards, the woman lunging to pull him across the river. His small size makes it rather easy.

Of course, she does not understand that to the wolf her actions may appear malicious. She tucks the confused boy beneath her, letting out a snarl towards the man who, in her mind, had been chasing him.

Her fur bristles, tail lifts, but there is no fear in her stance.