Totoka River it’s yours and it’s mine.

qiao and her familiar made quick progress of their climb north. they broke speed to rest only when necessary; she charted the stars at night, and tracked the gathering clouds as they sped past. they’d avoided the great hurdle of the mountains to their east, and eventually came upon a river whose end spat into a frothy and dark sea. 

qiao slowed as the tang of salt became evident. they were still some miles from the coast being visible, but she knew they were close. we are almost there, look— she motioned to @Stormchaser so he would see the change in scenery; how the trees grew smaller and more wiry, how large plots of vegetation thinned out to shrubs and vines. even the earth changed from rich loam to glittery silt and gritty sand. you will know you are close, for the ground and the trees and the air change. sense that? she inhaled the deep salt and the smell of tide flats. that is the smell of the sea.

The bite of salt on the air could be smelled from miles outside the vicinity of the sea. It was carried in on the wind, cutting sharp across the yearling’s snout and stinging his eyes. The further they’d ventured, the less he enjoyed it. While Qiao charted their course, Stormchaser watched her and noted her rituals as being familiar, trusted.

When the crone made note of the shifting land, the boy grunted.

The smell of the sea, he repeated internally, features shifting into an unamused glower. The young wolf lifted his head and breathed in, hoping that he might find another scent to battle with the overpowering smell of ocean. Nothing broke through. The closer they got, the stronger it became.

Why the hell are we out here again? Stormchaser growled.

the yearling did not favor the sting of the brine. his expression demarked great distaste, bringing an inward smile to the old crone.

the to’lang. she answered, motioning towards the thinning of reeds where an embankment sloped generously into riverwater. she drank her fill and turned, the thin of her wrist wiping river dew from her whiskers.

one more thing. when we get to the sea, do not sup from her waters. and mind the tide; many lives the sea has claimed with her churning waters.

a little more madness. as a treat.
the totoka's traveled tributary was now tower to the termagant which lestan had become. increasingly erratic, though not yet volatile, he ran to and fro between beachside locales until he exhausted himself.
all in avoidance of pending departure, of course.
as an apology to @Elodie and shardik and @Bonario, who had come to hang about in guardianship which lestan assumed was reluctant — in apology he was fishing beneath the sun in the cold river just beyond the reeds, and fishing rather well as he hummed tunelessly.
the circle of deer ivory was held beneath one hind-paw.

The young man didn’t respond. He knew well the importance of the to’lang and he knew better than to question her reasoning beyond what she had already shared. When it was mentioned, Stormchaser knew that it was all the reason she needed. Questions rarely conjured informative answers. Qiao had a tendency to mix her teachings with abstract ideas, things he could not see. Still, he followed.

What good is a body of water you can’t drink from?

It made little sense that there would be something of that magnitude, carrying enough water to satiate the thirst of all living things. It was cruel, perhaps, that so much of it would exist without benefiting the life around it. The more he learned of the world, the more he found that it was fond of taking.

The hum of a stranger drew the young wolf's ears to a point. He scanned with hawkish eyes to find where the sound originated. A chuff exited his lips, warning Qiao that they were not alone.

the world was built on the backs of others; it was all take, steal, thieve. take one’s life to survive, steal one’s flesh to eat, thieve from the earth’s bounty everything from water to the plants they walked upon. 

qiao was about to answer the boy’s question when humming broke through the reeds. she froze, eyes upon stormchaser — who had already noticed they weren’t alone. 

they had been together long enough to know what to do now. qiao went wide, slinking through the reeds with the to’lang left behind. it was not a trinket that lent to stealth. 

a man bent in the water; his frame carrying the scent of others and evidence of physical exhaustion. a scent emanated from him that instinctively was a warning; he was not well. 

she motioned silently for stormchaser, her eyes coming to rest upon the peculiar thing at his feet. 

the boy would know what to do. 

warm days and pleasant nights, traveller. qiao shouldered her way through the reeds, coming front and center to the man. a fine spot for fishing, aye?

"i s-suppose," lestan said without looking up even as her shadow fell across him. a round trout sauntered by beneath the current, and he lunged for it, dislodging the bit of ivory into the water. dismayed to hear its splash, lestan cried out! he started away from the fish at once, fumbling in the silt with gasping breaths and spluttered shouts until he surfaced with the ivory piece once more.
it was only then, hunched and streaming on the riverbank, that he turned to look at them. a woman whose age showed in her sharp, visible wisdom; the mayfair scudded his eyes with bright inquisitiveness over she and her accoutrements, then moved to the boy at her side, a taller youth with the same piercing look in his sun-hued stare.
"p-passing t-through?" lestan asked pleasantly.
he felt the deerpiece under his paw and was assured.

There was a strange man, likely the origin of the humming voice that had been carried on the wind. Qiao was pleasant when she approached, offering him a greeting and a chance at small-talk. These things were of little interest to the young familiar who prowled at her side. The man they had found, though… he was of great interest.

This stranger replied to her in a perfectly normal way. The illusion was shattered when the man shrieked and scrambled, voice climbing in distress. When the stranger had pulled a piece of treasure free, the wailing had died.

Stormchaser looked at this man with complete disbelief. His fur prickled uneasily, rising to spike at his shoulders and neck. He ignored the little man's query, stepping closer to inspect the strange wolf. 

What do you have there? he asked pointedly, gesturing with his snout at the ivory piece the lunatic had so desperately coveted.