Fairspell Meadow saffron's curse [m]

Luke could feel the pull of the stream on him; it grasped one end of a string that wound around his heart, beckoning him forward, but he would not step past his companion's shoulder. There was a subtle change in his posture, a slight prance to his step as the pair approached, for water-loving excitement welled within him. He bent his head with Lasher, sniffing the surface of the water, breathing its cool freshness, before drawing a drink himself.

He was about to turn and ask the other man if he would join him for a swim, when the earthen wolf answered the question he had not the chance to ask. A broad grin spread across his face as he watched the curve of his companion's back sink beneath the stream, caught the shimmer of water on his ears and muzzle. Without a moment more of hesitation, Luke made a high, graceful leap, intentionally splashing as much as he could when he landed in the stream. He sent a wave toward Lasher, further drenching his already soaking companion.

The blue-nosed wolf frolic and rolled for a few minutes, thrusting his head fully in the water as he attempted to catch a glimpse of any fish stirred from their hiding by the sudden commotion. When he looked up, grinning like a fool, his eyes met Lasher's and his tail threw droplets everywhere as it wagged vigorously. "I think I was an otter in a past life," he laughed.